The Devil You Know
by CatsDelicacy
Summary: A retelling of Volume 4 and follows canon very closely, but imagines that instead of returning to Costa Verde after the plane crash, Claire goes on the road with Sylar to find his father.
1. Chapter 1: The Devil You Know

A/N: I was watching 3x14 "A Clear and Present Danger," when I wondered what would have happened if Sylar had been captured in Samson Gray's house. Obviously Danko's little thugs failed horribly at actually taking Sylar, but it's fun to think about. This was supposed to be one-shot, but it just took off on me.

Disclaimer: Heroes is not mine, if it was there would be more sex and violence.

***

The Devil You Know...

She spied around the bulkhead, waiting for the guard to pass by. When she saw that he was engaged in talking to his mate, she scurried across the aisle to pull the black hood from the head of the closest captive to her.

The black cloth revealed the pale features of the last person she expected – or wanted - to see: Sylar. Claire was so shocked that she fell backward, and sat awkwardly in the aisle staring at his face. She had told her grandmother he was behind these disappearances and yet here he was in front of her, as captive as the rest. She wondered briefly how they had managed to catch him, and whether they realized they had a tiger by the tail. Then she shook that thought off, there was a more important issue at hand.

What was she going to do now? Sylar certainly had the power to get everyone off this plane, if he chose to do so. There was also the possibility he would regard the unconscious specials as a fabulous buffet. Claire took a deep breath and straightened to remove the drip from Sylar's nose. He required no time to recover, he just opened his deep eyes and quickly took in the situation.

"Well, this is a surprise. Hello, cheerleader." He smiled genially and Claire tightened her jaw.

"Shut up, you monster, just hurry up and get us out of here," Claire hissed, and stepped over to release the next prisoner. Sylar's finger twitched slightly and her body froze in place, then she felt herself being pushed back down onto the floor in front of him on her knees. "What are you doing? The guards will come back!"

Sylar made no move, content for the moment to remain strapped to the chair and not feeling an overwhelming sense of concern over the return of the guard.

"First, let's chat. We so rarely get any alone time."

Claire all but snarled at him, and he couldn't help but smile. She was so much fun to taunt, her reactions were just priceless. He was a bit curious, so he pulled the hoods from all the rest of the prisoners. Peter, Mohinder, Hiro, and so many others unconscious and strapped to chairs.

The guards jumped when they saw what was going on, but before they could raise the alarm, Sylar snapped their necks with an idle gesture. Finally, he broke the restraints on his arms and feet and stood. He returned his lambent gaze to Claire.

"Shall we talk for a moment about Primatech? Stabbing me in the back of the head with a blade of glass and then leaving me to burn?" He tutted at her, and Claire vainly pulled at her invisible bonds.

"You killed Meredith and tried to kill my Dad. I'd do it again in a heartbeat!"

"I told you that you were like me, such killer instinct." He looked around at the cargo plane full of specials and smiled voraciously at her.

"This is quite the smorgasborg you've laid out for me Claire. Who shall I eat first?"

"Don't hurt them! Just break us out of here!"

"Why do all you Petrellis think I'm a dog to be sicced on your enemies?" He squatted down abruptly to run a hand through her golden hair, leaning to whisper in her ear.

"Even dogs need treats Claire. If I do it, if I get everyone out of here, what's my...treat?" She clenched her teeth, and closed her eyes briefly. After all their previous run-ins she was getting a good idea of how he thought, and to continue the metaphor, she knew she had to throw him a bone.

"Fine. We'll talk about it _after_ we get out of here."

They both knew she was stalling, but he smiled briefly and decided to go along with her. He closed his eyes and concentrated, and she felt a huge shudder wrack the plane as it dove toward the ground. Simultaneously, all of the drug drips flew away from unconscious faces as their shackles were broken. Shouts broke out all around her as the unwilling passengers began to waken. The plane rattled violently again as it struck the ground, drawing still more cries.

All the while, his dark eyes held hers, and she felt transfixed as though she were hypnotized by a cobra. He only looked away when the plane touched down, gesturing at the wall and peeling a giant gash as if by a can opener, revealing the night outside.

"Shall we?" Sylar asked mockingly and pulled her up to link her arm with his, as if they were out on a Sunday stroll in Central Park. Dragging her along, he darted quickly towards the hole, and Claire only had time to look desperately behind her. Peter had awoken and pushed through the crowd of escaping prisoners to scream her name, his voice joining with her father's who also appeared in the opening. She didn't have time to wonder how Bennet had gotten there as they disappeared behind her.

Claire swallowed a tide of fear as the night surrounded them. She had made her bed, now she must lie in it. Besides, she couldn't kill the monster unless she knew where he was. He would give her the opportunity, all she had to do was wait.


	2. Chapter 2: Making Deals

Chapter 2: Making Deals

Sylar ran through the forest, using his telekenisis to spring himself and the girl he had captured ahead more quickly than a normal man could run and leaving Noah and Peter behind. He continued to run at this pace long past when the shouts and lights of the downed plane faded into the distance. He ran lightly and seemingly tirelessly, his breathing only a little quickened by his exertions. Claire was held by invisible hands a small distance behind him, like a kite on a string.

As the sun broke free of the mountains, they saw military planes flying low overhead toward the crash site. A moment later, there was a series of explosions so violent that they felt the ground shake even at their distance. Sylar stopped to watch the smoke cloud rise into the perfect blue sky, satisfied that they had escaped their kidnappers. Even he was feeling a little worn from carrying Claire so far, and he needed a break.

In all this time, neither had spoken, but now Sylar turned his gaze onto Claire. He was always impressed with how she kept her bearing in front of him. Like everyone else, she was afraid of him, the monster. Unlike most, she stood tall in front of him and never backed down.

"Who were those men, what do they want and who are they working for?" His eyes were sharp, and his tone serious.

"How did you end up on that plane?" she countered. He narrowed his eyes but decided to answer.

"I was investigating something when I was attacked by a bunch of those guys. One of them got a lucky shot to my heart and it knocked me out long enough for them to get me on the drugs." His eyes narrowed and his voice hit that husky low tone she associated with violence. "Now, Claire, answer my question."

Claire considered her options quickly, and decided that not only did he have a right to know, but perhaps she could turn him toward throwing a wrench in Nathan's plans.

"It's Nathan. He's set up some kind of crazy bag and tag system with the government. Only this time they're not just taking the dangerous ones, like _you_," this she threw like a dagger, and he raised his eyebrows as he conceded her point, "but everyone, even people who aren't dangerous, like Matt Parkman and even Hiro Nakamura!"

Sylar did not respond for a moment, digesting this information. Claire waited breathlessly to see what her always volatile nemesis would do. She reasoned that this abduction would bring the wrath of Sylar down upon her biological father's insane operation, but she also knew that she was playing with fire. He was a tiger, after all, and if you had him by the tail you'd sure as hell better not let go.

Finally he took a deep breath, then blew all of her expectations away by saying, "Oh well."

"What do you mean, oh well? Aren't you going to stop them? You're not just gonna let them get away with kidnapping you, are you?"

Sylar rolled his eyes at her obvious challenge. "So you double-dog dare me, do you? Too bad, I don't particularly care right now. I have my own business to take care of."

Once again his voice dropped to that husky growl, his eyebrows drew down and his eyes glittered maliciously. Claire shuddered and goosebumps raised up on her forearms. She had seen that look before, directed at her over Jackie's dead body. Whatever that business was, no good would come of it.

"Why? What could be more important than people hunting us?"

"That brings me to my treat. I'm looking for someone, and I want you to come with me."

Claire could only gape at him. "And why the _hell_ do you think I would do that?"

"Simple. You owe me." As her eyes widened, he slid very close to her, forcing her to tilt her chin in order to maintain eye contact. "Unless you'd like me to ask for something different?" His leer up and down her body left no doubt as to what that would entail.

He knew that she would take the deal for two reasons. One, she really wanted him dead and would want to keep her enemy close. Two, she had an honourable streak in her a mile wide. She had made the deal, she would stand by it. That was how she worked. He was right about Claire, and he could see in her clear, sharp eyes that she had come to the same conclusions.

The only thing that surprised him was how badly he wanted it. He had always thought of himself as a watchmaker's son, and to confirm that not only was Martin Gray not his father but that he had _bought_ him to pacify his wife had shaken him badly. The idea of having Claire accompany him in his search for his real father had come to him out of nowhere, but now that he had thought of it he was sure it was entirely appropriate. After all, they both had their daddy issues.

He decided to sweeten the pot a little. "I'll tell you what, Claire. You come with me and are a _very _good girl," and again his lascivious gaze trailed down her body, but mostly just to provoke her, "I just might consider shutting down bio-pop's little party." No downside in that offer, he was going to have to deal with Nathan's operation eventually anyhow.

Her eyes had never wavered from his, but now they dropped to the ground. She knew it was what she had to do, but...alone with Sylar. Finally she nodded warily, and his heart lurched alarmingly as she asked, "where are we heading?"


	3. Chapter 3: With the Devil

Chapter 3: With the Devil

"At least let me run on my own," Claire complained from inside her invisible bubble. Once again she was bouncing along behind him as he ran. He'd climbed a tree just after she'd agreed to come with him to locate the nearest road. When he came down he divested her of the sharp stick she'd found while he was up there for the purposes of stabbing him, then lifted her into the air and headed off.

"You'll only slow me down," he panted. A light coat of sweat gleamed on his skin. She knew he could keep up his pace as long as he wanted because their regenerative ability would not allow the muscles to take any damage. She also knew that he didn't have her inability to feel pain and he probably hurt all over.

"Fine. You could at least tell me where we're going."

He stopped to catch his breath, dropping her unceremoniously to sprawl in the underbrush. "I'm going to find my father."

"You don't know where he is?"

"No. Like you, Claire, I seem to have at least 2 sets of parents." Claire's pursed her lips angrily, she hated that he was always making comparisons between them, hated worse that she couldn't truthfully deny any of them. He smiled a bit, content that his jab had hit home, and continued, "I've recently found out that the man I had always thought of as my father bought me as a present for my mother."

Claire's eyes widened. "Bought you from who?"

"His cousin, Samson Gray."

She had never really considered that he had been born and grown up somewhere. He had just been this malevolent shadow in her life for so long, she'd never thought of him as human. She wasn't sure where to put this new piece of information in her mental picture of him. It sucked though, she couldn't deny that.

"How are you going to find him?"

"Those soldier-boys grabbed me from the taxidermy shop where he lived." That tracked for Claire, creepy Sylar's creepy father lived with a bunch of dead animals. "I found a cigarette still burning in the ashtray when I got there, so he must have just left. I'm – I mean we're – going back to find out where he went. We're actually lucky, I think the plane crashed within an hour or two's drive."

"Go back there? Won't they just catch us again?"

"I doubt they're there anymore, they won't be expecting me to head straight back there."

Claire supposed that made a lot of sense. "So, say you do find out where he went. What are you going to do when you find him?"

He cocked his head to the side, looking thoughtful. "I don't know. I'll decide when I get there."

He set off again, this time at a normal walk without lifting her from the ground, and after a moment Claire followed him. When they got to the road they walked along the shoulder, but down the culvert a bit since they were pretty conspicuous in their orange jumpsuits. They came to a ramshackle house with no near neighbors and Sylar motioned her to wait while he went off to take a look. Sylar disappeared around back of the house as Claire looked anxiously on, praying that there was no one home. Some five minutes later he reappeared and gestured for her to follow.

When she got there she saw an old couple tied and blindfolded with sheets taken from the laundry line that stretched across the yard.

"What are you doing?" she hissed, then started towards the pair, intent on rescuing them. Sylar caught her by the elbow and whirled her around to face him.

"We need clothes, money and transportation, Claire, and this is the best way to get them. They haven't seen our faces so they can't tell anyone who did this. I'm trying to keep a low profile here, but if you prefer I kill them I'd be glad to oblige."

The most annoying thing about Sylar was that he was never wrong. As he disappeared into the house she silently apologized to the pair and began looking through the laundry hanging on the line. They had gotten really lucky, the couple's clothes were about the right size for both her and Sylar.

She took a plain pair of jeans and a t-shirt and ducked inside the shed to change. When she came out Sylar had returned and was picking through the clothing, finally deciding on a black collared shirt and jeans. He didn't step into the shed to start changing and as he began unzipping his jumpsuit Claire all but fled to the front of the house.

Sylar followed shortly thereafter, twirling set of keys around his fingers and tucking a wad of cash into his pocket. He hadn't done up the top several buttons of his shirt and the jeans hung well on his long legs, and Claire noticed for the very first time that he was an extremely good looking man. She was appalled at the thought until she thought of something her mother had always told her, that the devil always wears a handsome face. The car turned out to be an old and rusty station wagon with brown panelling along the side. Sylar opened the passenger door with an exaggerated bow.

"Your chariot awaits, my lady."

She got in the car without looking at him and said, "Let's just get out of here. I want this over as soon as possible."

Sylar slammed the car door shut, his expression black as he came around the car. It was not lost on him that what she wanted the most was to be away from him. He couldn't really blame her, given everything he had done to her and her family, but it angered him nonetheless. _He_ didn't want to be away from _her_, and she was stuck with him until he didn't want it that way anymore.

The station wagon started with a stuttering groan, and as they drove away Claire took note of the address so that she could repay them for their theft. As they started down the highway, she thought again of tigers and tails.


	4. Chapter 4: Repercussions

A/N: Some of the dialogue over the next few chapters is going to be very familiar, it's fun to spin it to the situation I've created here. Thanks for the positive reviews, this story has really taken a life of its own for me, and I hope you continue to have as much fun reading it as I am writing it!

Disclaimer: Heroes belongs to Universal and Tim Kring, and I receive no profit from this fanfic.

Chapter 4: Repercussions

"Why the _hell _didn't anyone tell me Sylar was on that flight?" Noah Bennet was never afraid to use the advantage of his height to intimidate, and he was definitely looming over Danko. Nathan Petrelli stood just behind Bennet, and his mouth was tight and thin.

They stood beside the burning remnants of the prisoner transport plane. Government agents swarmed over the plane and low hills surrounding it, beginning clean-up efforts.

Danko did not intimidate easily, if ever. He tilted his chin and calmly met Bennet's gaze. "You didn't know a lot of the prisoners on that plane, and he was captured like any of the others. He doesn't seem so special to me."

Bennet's mouth twisted, wondering once again why Nathan Petrelli had put this naive and fanatical hunter in charge. He was like a bull in a china shop, he had no idea of the delicacy something like this required. Normally Bennet would accede to Danko's idiocy, as he and Angela Petrelli had planned, but Bennet's abilities to push down his emotions and do the job were severely compromised where his daughter was concerned.

"You do _not_ put a man like Sylar in general population. If I'd been told, this escape would never have happened."

"As near as we can tell, this escape happened because _your_ daughter," Danko gestured at both of them, "snuck onto that plane and released him."

"Blame games are not helpful right now," Nathan broke in, his hands on his hips. "What's important is finding Sylar and getting Claire back. He's obsessed with her, he's obviously kidnapped her."

"Claire Bennet turned a simple transport flight into a national security emergency. She released a man you claim to be a danger to the general population, and you two are telling me I have to drop everything and go find her."

Danko turned his back on them and stalked towards the tent that served as his base of operations on the ground, snapping orders to soldiers as he did. Nathan and Noah followed along behind, their faces set in angry lines. When they got to the tent, Nathan moved to face Danko.

"Listen to me Danko. I am in charge of this operation and I am telling you that you have to go after Claire and Sylar. You do not comprehend how dangerous he is, and now he has my daughter."

"As soon as this plane went down and these so called people escaped, they were designated as terrorists. As such,_ I_ am in charge of operations on the ground, Senator Petrelli. I have to clean up this mess and get after the freaks who killed my men on that hill up there. Sylar was caught once, he'll be caught again. Claire made her choice, and she'll have to deal with the consequences. Now if you'll excuse me, I have important business to take care of."

Danko again turned his back on them, effectively dismissing them.

Noah and Nathan met eyes, and Noah hooked his head to indicate they should go outside. The two men saw eye to eye on very little, but on Claire's safety they were unified.

"Nathan, you have to make Danko go after her!" Bennet hissed when they had gotten clear of listening ears. Nathan gave him the same look we would extend a simpleton.

"You heard him, Bennet, and he's right. He does have operational authority and you know it. You're the man with the plan, you tell me how we're going to get Claire back."

"It's not as easy as that. Sylar is exceptionally good at keeping his head down when he doesn't want to be found. I tracked him across the country when he got free of our surveillance in New York City before this whole mess started, and I found nothing but bodies without their skulls attached."

"So what do we do?"

Noah almost snarled with frustration, but all he could say was, "We have to do what Danko said, we have to wait for Sylar to show himself."

"What happens to Claire in the meantime? She's trapped with Sylar of all people, he could do anything to her!"

"Sylar's had plenty of opportunities to kill my daughter if that's what he wanted. No, he's after something else."

"And what exactly is that?"

"I have no idea."


	5. Chapter 5: Road Trip, Part One

Chapter 5: Road Trip, Part One

Sylar had been right, they were only a few hours drive from the taxidermist's shop. Claire had been very edgy at first, trapped as she was in a confined space with her worst enemy. She kept her arms clasped across her chest, her body tensed and ready to deal with whatever game he was playing. As the miles and silence stretched on, she realized that he wasn't actually paying any attention to her. His dark eyes were fixed on the road, and his eyebrows were furrowed together. For the first time since she had left the Petrelli mansion – had that only been yesterday? - to find Peter and Matt Parkman, Claire had time to let the reality of the situation settle in. In an attempt to stop Nathan's plans she had released a despicable psychopath and was now trapped in a car with him going who knows where.

"God, I'm so stupid," she mumbled to herself.

"I don't think so." Sylar knew first hand that she was intelligent, capable, and brave. After all, she had almost killed him twice, once with a knife in Costa Verde and again in Primatech with a well aimed shot at his sweet spot. If she hadn't used glass that had melted before the fire completely destroyed his body they would not be having this conversation.

Her mouth twisted cynically, and she met his eyes in the rearview mirror. "Well, that's just great. I'd take the vote of confidence more to heart if wasn't coming from a serial killer."

"I am not a serial killer!"

Claire raised her eyebrows incredulously. "You have a pattern, you go after specific victims, you collect mementos..."

"OK, _technically_ I'm a serial killer," he ground out. Sylar had never actually thought of himself that way. He was merely removing abilities from those too weak to keep them. It was an evolutionary imperative, just as he had told Mohinder Suresh. However, her words fell heavily on him because he knew from his newest ability that she wasn't lying, and he couldn't deny it.

Claire decided to let it pass, and silence fell again. Claire was unsure how to deal with Sylar. Their previous confrontations had the benefit of being uncomplicated. He had stalked her, violated her home and torn the top of her head off, and killed her biological mother. She had fled from him or fought him. He seemed to have changed somehow, and she thought it was in her best interest to find out why.

"Why did you bring me with you?"

He looked over at her, meeting her eyes for a moment before turning back to the road.

"To gain the benefit of your experience, of course. You know all about searching for answers from your fathers, I'm sure I'll find your insight very useful." He laid the sarcasm on with a trowel. Claire sighed in aggravation, but she had learned the hard way that it did not pay to get sucked in by Sylar's taunts and half-truths. She tried another tack.

"Why do you want to find your father so badly anyhow?"

"My father is the only one who has all the answers."

Claire rolled her eyes and let her head fall against the headrest. "Believe me, the answers fathers have are not always what you want to hear." Sylar glanced sidelong at her. Her eyes were closed and she had a small frown on her face. The morning sunlight shining through the car windows lit her skin like a candle.

"At least your fathers give a damn about you." His deep voice was husky and almost uncertain.

She snorted a little and opened her eyes to stare pensively at the scenery passing outside her window. "Yeah, they really care about me. Senator Flyboy refuses to acknowledge me in order to preserve his political career, and is rounding up people like us and putting us in "internment" camps. Special Agent Bennet is helping him do it, and every other word out of his mouth is a lie."

This was the first time Claire had ever acknowledged any kind of similarity between the two of them, and Sylar felt an intense surge of satisfaction run through him. He thought for a moment about pressing the issue, but decided against it. He wasn't feeling particularly adversarial this morning, and it could wait. Instead he focused on driving and wondered about his father.


	6. Chapter 6: Family Matters

Chapter 6: Family Matters

Sylar's eyes sharpened as they approached their destination, and he drove slowly around the block until he was satisfied that the agents were no longer there. He parked in front of an old two story house with a wooden sign out front which said "Samson Gray" and in smaller letters, "taxidermist."

Sylar instructed her not to go anywhere, then slid out of the station wagon. Of course she immediately tried to follow him, but he had sealed the door shut with his abilities, and she banged on the window in frustration. He looked back and dropped her a wink, then disappeared into the house.

When Sylar came out of the taxidermist his face was dark. The solemn and thoughtful expression he had worn throughout the morning was gone and his eyes were lit from within. He walked over to the passenger side of the vehicle and pulled her out roughly by her elbow, ignoring her protestations.

"What's going on? Did you find out where he is?"

"Shut up and do what I tell you. I need to find some answers, and you're going to help me. " He'd felt oddly off his game since they escaped the plane, but spending some time in the foreboding dimness of his father's house had brought him back to himself. Now, both of them needed a reminder of what he really was.

Sylar dragged Claire along the sidewalk as she futilely resisted his grip. He read the numbers on the houses as he moved along, then apparently found the one he was looking for about a half a block from the taxidermy. He walked up to the front door and knocked, but no one answered. From the cunning smile on his lips, Claire presumed that he liked it better that way.

He pulled her along to the back of the house and effortlessly broke the lock on the back door. The door opened into a kitchen, and he put Claire in one of the kitchen chairs, holding her with his ability. Next he left the room to scout out the rest of the house.

Sylar returned and rummaged around the kitchen to make a pot of tea. He offered her a cup but she refused it, refusing to be an accomplice in whatever he was doing here. As he drank his tea, he opened the envelopes on the kitchen table, occasionally chuckling at something he read . Although Claire knew he was a coldblooded murderer and had done far worse things than this, she couldn't help but feel scandalized at his casual invasion of someone's home and privacy as if it were an absolutely normal activity.

"What are you going to do to these people?" she asked tremulously. Sylar the hunter was back, and she knew all too well that he was capable of anything. He pulled one of the kitchen chairs in front of hers and straddled it so that their faces were very close.

Sylar quirked an eyebrow at her, his whole demeanour giving her the eery sensation that he was as comfortable as a cat in front of a mouse hole.

"Well, that really depends on how helpful you are."

"What do you mean, how helpful I am?"

"Well, Claire, there are two things I discovered about Mary and Luke Campbell in my father's house. I learned that Mary Campbell, mother of Luke Campbell, knows where my father is. I also learned that Luke Campbell is special, he can create microwave beams. I think that would be a fantastic ability for my collection, don't you?"

Claire's eyes widened as she realized what he was driving at. "No, you can't! Leave them alone, you sick bastard!"

"Or what? You'll kill me? You really need some new material." He smiled charmingly, while anger contorted her face. "All right, I won't hurt them, but in return, you have to do something for me."

"And what's that?"

"When the Campbells come home I want you to tie them up. Then I want you to question Mary until she tells you where my father is. You will do whatever it takes to get it, or I will cut open Lukey's little head and – what did you say in Costa Verde?" He leaned all the way in, so that their cheeks were touching, and his low, malevolent whisper tickled her ear. "Oh, yes. I'll eat his brain."

He released from his telekinetic hold, and she sprang backwards so hard she fell out of the chair. Sylar chuckled at her and took a sip of his tea.

"One more thing. If you tell Mary that I'm going to kill her son if she doesn't talk, I will torture her for that information then her take her son's ability, and you'll have front row tickets."

"How will I get her to tell me then?"

Sylar smiled with black cheeriness. "Not really my problem, but I'm sure you'll come up with something."

"Why are you doing this?" Claire was confused, he'd seemed so different all morning, it was like he'd flicked a switch and reverted to the terrifying figure he'd been in Primatech before the fire.

"I want to see what you'll do. You see Claire, I believe you'll hurt this woman to get what you need. I know you'd hurt anyone to get what you want, if you thought it was important enough. Just like me."

"I'll never be like you! How many times do I have to tell you that?"

"I guess until I believe it." Again he approached her, and he moved so fast that she didn't have time to get away. He held her by her shoulders and looked into her eyes, his eyes cruel and strangely desperate. "And Claire, I just _can't_ believe it."

He released her and went into the back yard. A few moments later he came back with some ropes, the moved the kitchen chairs and the ropes into the living room.

Walking out of the kitchen into the living room, he turned on the TV. The news channel was covering the plane crash. A pretty anchorwoman described it as an accident and said nothing about the fact that US jet fighters had used missiles to destroy the crash site. Claire assumed that there had been some type of coverup, and cursed her biological father again. She also wondered how Peter and the rest were doing, if they had been captured again or even killed. Sylar sipped at his tea on the couch while Claire worried, hoping the Campbells would never return.

Sometime later they heard the sound of arguing voices coming down the path from the street to the front door. Claire recognized the sound of a small family battle, and wondered briefly if anyone ever got along with their parents.

"I can't believe I left that on!" the mother exclaimed, and then as she neared and saw Claire she frowned and asked, "What are you doing here?" The young woman did not look particularly threatening, so there was no sign of fear in her voice.

Sylar casually walked around the corner from the kitchen and used the remote to turn off the TV.

"You're either Mary Campbell, or current occupant," he said with a chilling smile, holding up her mail. Mary grabbed a fire iron and took a swing at him, but Sylar threw it aside and with a gesture forced the woman and her son into the armchairs. He stepped forward and said, "We've been waiting for you."

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" Mary gasped, and Claire had to give her credit for her spunk. Sylar was a fearsome figure.

"My friend and I," he gestured at Claire, "have a few questions to ask you. Go ahead and tie them up, sweetheart. Also, I think it would be best if you gagged Junior. Make sure the knots are really tight or we'll get cooked."

Claire threw him a look of absolute loathing and for a moment refused to move. He cocked his head to the side then looked to Luke, raising his fingers the same way he had when he had removed her skull. Her mouth twisted, but she did as he had instructed. Sylar settled down on the couch again with the expression of a man waiting for a good show.

"Look," Claire said, trying her best to sound tough, "I want you tell me where Samson Gray is."

Mary's eyes widened, and she gasped. She looked more afraid than she had when Sylar pinned her to the chair.

"No!" she exclaimed, so breathless there was little force behind the sound, then tried again, "no, I can't!"

"You have to! If you don't I'll have to get rough!" Sylar came close to snickering. Nothing quite as scary as a pretty blonde 18 year old girl who didn't top 5'3".

"You're the one who doesn't understand! I can't tell you, he'll..." Mary glanced desperately at her son, then put her chin up resolutely. "I can't tell you."

"Look, you don't understand. If you don't tell me, something terrible will happen here."

"Something terrible will happen here if I do tell you!"

Claire didn't have a response to that and she didn't dare so much as look in Sylar's direction. Claire kept arguing with her, growing more desperate with every demand she made, but Mary refused to budge. Sylar had finished his tea and was beginning to look bored, and she had no idea what he would do to entertain himself. She was absolutely sure it would be no good for the Campbell family.

Finally, after fifteen minutes of this back and forth, Sylar stood and dragged Claire into the kitchen. In a low voice he stated, "This is becoming tiring, Claire, and you really don't want me getting bored. Time to raise the ante, or Luke and Mommy are going to have a _really_ bad afternoon."

"I don't know how to do what you want!" Claire whispered desperately. She was near the end of her rope, and her tone was awfully close to a plea. Sylar looked around the kitchen, then pulled a large knife out of the block on the counter.

Claire's eyes widened. "What do you expect me to do with that?"

"I expect you to become more convincing in your argument, Claire. Obviously my father has frightened her very badly so _you_ need to become more a more immediately frightening figure, or I'm going to have to take matters into my own hands." To emphasize his point, he raised his hand and called on Elle's ability so that blue sparks writhed around his fingers.

"You tell me Claire, what's worse? A little torture or a dead family? It's your call." Claire sagged, defeated by his threat, and took the knife.

They walked back into the living room, while Claire desperately tried to come up with a way out of this with no blood on her hands. Sylar was not right about her, he could not be right. Then a plan came to her, a way to get what she needed without too much harm. She just needed enough leverage on Mary, and she thought she knew how she could get it.

She walked up to the woman and displayed the knife she had in her hand.

"Time to get serious Mary. You're going to tell me what I want to know, or I'm going to start cutting." For a teenaged girl, Claire had the ability to really turn on the menace.

"What are you going to do? Torture me in front of my son? I don't care, I won't talk, torture is only the beginning of what that maniac Samson Gray will do to me!"

Claire leaned into her, taking a page from Sylar's book and invading her space. "No, Mary. I'm going to torture your son in front of you."

As Mary's eyes widened in fear, Claire rose and walked over to where Luke sat, struggling against the ropes and uttering muffled groans through his duct tape gag. Sylar couldn't help but be impressed. She reminded him of Noah Bennet in that ruthless determination he was so capable of – like father like daughter.

"No! You leave my son alone!"

"You're forcing my hand here, Mary. You really don't understand how important it is that I find out where Samson Gray is. How important it is for all of us," at this, she shot Sylar a poisonous glare, but he seemed immune and only smiled encouragingly.

"Oh God, please don't make me! He told me he'd kill me and take Luke! He said he'd sell him, just like he sold his own son!"

Claire froze, horror sending icy fingers throughout her body. She looked again to Sylar, who looked just as horrified for a moment. He shook his head to regain his composure and pantomimed a gun with his fingers to take a shot at Luke's head.

"He'll die right now if you don't tell me what I need to know." That at least was the truth. Claire closed her eyes, not sure if who she hated more, Sylar or herself. This came too easily to her, this knowledge of how to get what she wanted, the will to carry it through.

Claire set the blade to Luke's arm and made a shallow gash, causing more bleeding than harm and hoping to God it looked impressive enough to fool Mary. Apparently it worked, because as Claire lifted the knife again, Mary broke.

"Stop it! Stop it, I'll tell you," her voice was shaking. "He told me that if he ever had to disappear I could find him in Minnesota, he's got a cabin in the woods about 28 miles west of -"

Suddenly Sylar stood up, his height and darkness drawing every eye in the room to him. "She's lying."

Mary Campbell's eyes widened, she had almost forgotten he was there.

Claire didn't waste any time wondering how he knew, and he seemed so sure that she locked eyes with Mary and snapped, "Tell me where he is!"

Mary's mouth tightened angrily, she wasn't quite as broken as she seemed. "Alright, fine! He has an ex-wife who's a flight attendant, she lives in Des Moines, they had a kid that was born with some sort of weird -"

"She's lying again," snarled Sylar, and Claire could see she was running out of time. Desperately she made another slice on Luke's arm, deeper this time so that Mary could see the pain on his face.

Mary couldn't take any more, and this time her sobs were real. "Fine, fine you win. Give me a pen and paper, I'll give you what you want, you _bitch_."

Claire freed one of her arms and gave her the pen and paper. Mary's hand shook hard enough that the address was only just legible. When it was finished, Claire handed the note to Sylar, quivering so hard with relief that she feared her knees would buckle. He read the address, then folded up the paper and stuffed it in his pocket.

"Well, that went very well, don't you think?"

Sylar stretched like a cat, then cast his eyes on the mother and son with that baneful look Claire recognized all too well. With a gesture he snapped the ropes holding the pair and threw them up against the wall.

Claire watched with rising alarm, then sprang forward to grab Sylar's arm. "What are you doing? You promised you wouldn't hurt them if I got you what you wanted!"

He raised a heavy eyebrow mockingly. "I lied."

Sylar looked back to Luke and levelled his fingers at Luke's head where a bloody line appeared.

"Please Sylar, I'm begging you, please don't do this!" Sylar was almost surprised when he paused to look at her.

"Please," she entreated, her green eyes filled with tears that spilled in clear tracks down her cheeks.

Sylar looked back and forth between his victims and Claire. Sylar felt the Hunger rising, and he had never had someone with abilities so totally in his power and failed to see it through. Nevertheless, the plea in her teary eyes moved him even more insistently then his craving to learn more, acquire more. After what felt like forever to Claire, looked back at the Campbells and they dropped in a heap to the ground.

He stalked towards Mary Campbell, grabbing her by the hair and twisting her to face him. "If you tell anyone that we were here, I'll come back and carve you and baby boy into tiny quivering pieces, do you understand me?"

Mary nodded, crying desperately as she pulled her still gagged son into her arms, curling over him protectively. Sylar was satisfied that she would keep the secret, she seemed to be very good at that, and he walked out the front door.

"I'm so sorry, he made me, I -" Claire stammered, but Mary only looked at her with pure hate in her eyes.

"Just get out of here, you little whore, and _never_ come back," she seethed, then began crying again and trying to remove Luke's gag.

Claire did so, stumbling as she followed Sylar back to the station wagon. She was still weeping silently as they drove away, but Sylar did his best to pretend that it didn't bother him.


	7. Chapter 7: Road Trip, Part Two

Chapter 7: Road Trip, Part Two

"Thank you for not killing those people." It was the first thing she had said in the hour since they had left the Campbell house. She despised him for what he had done to her, but she recognized that not murdering the family was uncharacteristic of him.

Sylar frowned uncomfortably. "I didn't do it for you. I told you I'm trying to keep a low profile and leaving a trail of bodies between here and my father's place is not going to help. Despite what you think of me, I don't kill every person with abilities I encounter."

They drove along, thinking their own thoughts.

By and by Sylar asked, "Why did you follow me out of that house, why didn't you try to run away?" He would have caught her, of course, but he wanted to know why she hadn't tried.

"I have to keep an eye on you and stop you from killing anybody else. As evil as you are, the internment camps my father is setting up are worse, and I need you to stop him. Again, _without_ killing anybody."

"That's a very nice story. What's the real reason? And don't tell me that you would have been taken to one of those camps. You and I both know that your daddies will never let it happen."

Claire remembered Nathan telling her that she had a pass, that everyone she knew would be rounded up. Not her though. She was _special_. Her Dad was in on it somehow, she just knew it – why else would he have been on that plane? All he did was tell her to trust him, and then lie. They both wanted her to go home and pretend to be just a normal girl, and she wasn't sure if she wanted that anymore.

"Maybe being at home isn't so thrilling right now, and at least this way I can do some good."

Awhile later, Claire looked at Sylar and saw that he wore a melancholy expression. She thought of Mary and her revelation that Sylar had been sold by his father. It troubled her that she should feel any sympathy for him, but she couldn't help it. Eventually she asked, "Do you remember anything about your father?"

"I've been trying, but nothing is clear." Sylar shook his head in frustration. "Every time I get close to a memory it just drifts away before I can grab it."

He drove with a furrowed brow a few more minutes before asking, "What about you, Claire? What are some of your earliest memories?

"How would that help?"

"I don't know, maybe it'll remind me of something. Tell me." He wanted to know more about her, and he told himself it was because he wanted to find out more about how she worked.

Claire decided to humour him, it was better than staring out the window worrying where they were going and what he was going to do when they got there. What to say... "I remember I liked to look at the stars. Dad would take me for a walk at night and find a place where they were really bright. I'd look at them until I got really sleepy, then my Dad would pick me up and carry me home. I'd look up at the stars flicker through the branches of the trees..."

"Up at tree branches," Sylar murmured. "I remember.....I remember lying on my back, all wrapped up in blankets and looking up at tree branches, but I was moving – how is that possible?

"On your back? Like in a wagon?"

Sylar abruptly hit the brakes and stopped on the shoulder. He was too absorbed in this and getting in a car accident because he was distracted would not get him anywhere. Claire's eyes widened and she pulled away from him, pressed against the passenger side door. He made no threatening gestures, just stared at her intently.

"Yes, exactly, in a wagon. I remember my father pulling me in a red wagon with big rubber wheels. It was still dark and the silhouettes of the tree branches – I remember thinking that they looked like snake fingers." Old fear crossed his features, an expression that Claire had not thought he was capable of.

"Back there, Mary said your father sold you. Is it true?

"It seems so."

"What kind of a man could sell his own son?" Claire asked, her voice quiet and sad.

That was a question Sylar had been asking himself, but he was so afraid to know the answer.

_**An hour later...**_

"If your father's name is Samson Gray, that makes you Sylar Gray right?"

Until recently, Claire had hardly thought of Sylar as human. It had never occurred to her that he had ever been a person like any other, with a last name, a childhood, pimples in adolescence, the whole works. Now, faced with a man who could think of nothing but finding his father, she remembered how desperate she had been to find her biological parents when her ability manifested. This very human desire to find out where he came from took some of the monster out of the man.

"My name is – was - Gabriel. Gabriel Gray – hasn't your father told you that?"

"It may shock you to find out you're not the centre of my universe, but my Dad and I don't really spend a lot of time talking about you."

"Given that I've stalked you for years, it seems like you would need to know all about me. Information being power and all that. But then, I forgot that Noah never tells his Claire-bear what she needs to know."

Claire decided to ignore that. She didn't feel like being drawn into a conversation about Noah Bennet and truth, especially considering that the two words were incompatible.

"So why pick Sylar, what is that supposed to mean?"

Sylar coughed awkwardly, seeming almost embarrassed. "It's the name of a German watch produced in 1918. I spent a long time restoring one."

"A _watch_? You named yourself after a _watch_?" Claire exclaimed.

"I was a watchmaker in New York City. I maintained and repaired timepieces, and the Sylar watch was my most prized possession." He shot an almost shy look her way, then turned back to the road at the sight of her dumbfounded expression.

Wow. "OK, so why did you change your name?"

Sylar shot a quick look at her, deciding what to say. Finally he replied, "It's complicated."

"What, you wanted to keep your secret identity while you went on a murderous rampage?"

"What do you know about anything?" Sylar snapped, and Claire bit her mouth closed.

After a long, tense silence, Sylar decided to be a bit more specific. It was so important that Claire _understand_ him. "Gabriel Gray was a very different person from me; meek, afraid, useless." Sylar's mouth twisted with derision as he thought of the person he used to be. "When I realized my true nature, I left him and his name behind."

Claire's head tilted to the side as she considered this, and Sylar's eyes were drawn to the reflection of her delicate collar bones in the rear view mirror. He almost didn't hear her ask, "What's your true nature?"

"I think you know that better than anyone, Claire."

She didn't really have anything to say to that, so she turned on the radio.

_Psycho Killer, quest que'ce, _sang David Byrne.

Sylar smiled as Claire quickly turned the radio off again. Neither of them noticed the camera fixed to the underpass as it photographed them.


	8. Chapter 8: Moving Targets

A/N: This story is meant to be a respin of the Fugitives story line, not an overhaul. I don't intend for this to be a novelization of the entire volume. I've moved Claire from Costa Verde to this road trip but otherwise I'm staying very close to the story arcs with the other characters. Since the crew couldn't find Sylar, they can't find Claire, and (imho) the whole Underwater Boy thing was so thin that I don't think Claire's absence from California would have any impact on the story line. Micah as Rebel has lots of contacts, and I don't think it's a stretch for him to use someone else to help Alex and Doyle escape.

Disclaimer: I am lifting a lot of the original script from the episodes, but purely as an homage to the writers of the show.

Thanks again for the positive reviews!

Chapter 8: Moving Targets

In Building 26, Danko pinned a photo of Peter Petrelli to a bulletin board under a sign that said 'Targets.' Peter's face joined those of Matt Parkman, Hiro Nakamura, Sylar, and Claire Bennet. Danko turned and addressed his subordinates, "Wires are up, accounts are frozen. We have traffic cams up in fifty states. The Patriot Act gives us a lot of leeway here." His voice was brusque and flat.

"What's our status on the Bennet girl?" asked one of the agents, a man with brown hair and blue eyes dressed in shirt and tie. He leaned comfortably in his computer chair at his station.

"Senator Petrelli," he said, scorn dripping from every syllable, "wants us to put all or our resources towards finding her and Sylar, under the impression that she is a hostage, not an accomplice. This is despite the fact that these fugitives," his voice became more strident as he pointed to Peter and Matt, "are responsible for the death of our comrades. A fact I will bring to his attention – as soon as he finishes his latte and decides to show up for work."

There was a quiet chuckle from the agents in the room, but it was cut short by Nathan Petrelli's smooth and confident voice.

"Double espresso, actually."

Everyone in the room straightened almost to attention, and even Danko had the good grace to look a little uncomfortable.

Nathan walked forward and effortlessly drew every eye in the room to him. "Finding Sylar and rescuing Claire Bennet is still priority number one. Now, I know a lot of you lost friends in that crash. You want payback, I understand that. But Sylar is a threat of epic proportions, and he has kidnapped my daughter. I want them found as soon as possible."

Danko was not impressed, and pulled Nathan over to speak with him in a low voice. "Senator Petrelli, I know you want your daughter back, but the best evidence we have at present indicates that she freed Sylar and thus allowed him to cause that crash. Since that time they have stayed off the radar, and we are wasting valuable man hours searching for them." Again he pointed at the pictures of Matt, Peter and Mohinder. "Those freaks have caused a major breach in national security, and killed my men. They are the priority."

Nathan's face tightened as Danko spoke, only years of rigid self-control preventing him from punching the man. However, he had those years of self-control and so he rose his voice and spoke to the assembled operatives with authority. "Look, I know we have a lot of irons in the fire, and we don't have the resources to deal with _all_ of our objectives. Which is why I've put a request to the White House this morning to double our funding. We need to show progress." He gestured to the board with its mosaic of photos. "These are your targets. Know them. Hunt them. Track them, and bring them home." His face broke its veneer of command for a moment as he looked at the smiling face of his daughter. "_Alive_."

Nathan had never underestimated his own power of personality. His whole life people had been doing what he wanted, as they had for his father. He was just that kind of person. Everyone in the room fell in line and went back to work while Nathan excused himself to go meet with the president. Danko was grateful that the politician (which to him was a four letter word) finally gone. He began examining the information displayed on one of the many computer monitors in the room.

One of those computers sounded an alarm, and the agent using it snapped to attention. A hit had come up on one of the traffic cams, and he watched as the database made a recognition of Sylar and Claire Bennet's faces. He looked to Danko and called, "Sir!"

***

Micah awoke with a start at the insistent beeping of his computer. He placed his hand on the screen, opening his mind to the machine.

_What is it?_

_**Targets acquired: Claire Benett; Sylar. **_

_That's great! Show me._

The highway camera photograph was placed into Micah's mind, as well as extrapolations of possible destinations and resting points along the way.

_**Alert.**_

_ What now?_

_**Building 26 agents have also acquired. Sending task force.**_

Micah looked at the video of Danko ordering the sting, and felt his stomach drop. He knew of no one who could make it to Claire and Sylar before Danko's people could get there. All he could do was hope that they would be alright.

***

"We haven't eaten since I don't now when, what do you want?" Neither of them would ever starve, but Sylar found the empty feeling in his stomach uncomfortable, and he could use a break from driving.

"Drive-thru is fine," She said tightly, staring straight ahead.

"It would be nice to take a break, sit down, have a coffee."

She cast him a withering glance. "What, and have people think we're dating? No thanks. Drive-thru is fine."

Sylar's mouth tightened and his brows drew down. He looked for the next diner along the highway, pulled off and parked. He walked towards the diner, grandly named the Olympic Coffee Shop despite its shabby exterior. With a mocking look over his shoulder, keys in hand, he entered the restaurant. Claire rolled her eyes and made a face at his broad back, then got out of the car and followed him. They sat at the counter and ordered waffles. Claire had hers with chocolate milk, he with coffee. Claire blew bubbles into her chocolate milk and Sylar shot her a look of aggravation, which almost made her intensify the blowing. After a moment she decided that she didn't want to take the risk that by angering him he would pull another stunt like in the Campbell house. He looked very sedate right now, but she knew the monster wasn't far away.

She started fiddling with the butter knife on the counter. It was very dull and she couldn't help but wonder how hard she would have to cut before it made a mark. It took a lot of pressure and made a nasty gash on her finger which bled profusely for a moment before it healed. This experimentation with her healing ability had become a kind of nervous tic for her since Sylar had somehow removed her sense of pain in Costa Verde. Sylar had been staring off into space again, and didn't notice what she was doing until she grabbed a napkin to sop off the blood, then picked up a fork to see what that would do.

He grabbed her wrist and pinned it to the counter, "What do you think you're doing?" he hissed.

"Just experimenting, I do that sometimes just to see how it heals. Don't even try to tell me you don't use your powers just to mess around sometimes."

"Our powers are not for amusement, Claire, do you understand?"

Claire considered that for a moment. "I dunno, I guess I've never really talked to anyone about it. Mom and Dad are always trying to pretend I don't have an ability as it is. So, what, you only use your powers for a reason?"

"Usually. Sometimes I disappoint myself." Claire wondered what a disappointed Sylar looked like. She kept watching him, fiddling the straw to her chocolate milk with her teeth. He turned to meet her gaze, a slightly questioning expression on his face. She didn't know what answers he found there, but after a moment he drew a breath and continued. "Always have an objective. Know your endgame before you lift a hand."

He paused for a moment. Claire was fascinated by this look into the mind of the monster and wanted him to continue. "What else?"

"Keep a clear head. Emotions make you sloppy." He paused awkwardly at that point, his eyes flitting over her face. This point had become increasingly clear to him during their drive. "The most important thing is that you understand your motivation, always know what it is you want," he emphasized the last word, and his eyes caught on her pink lips, wrapped around the end of her straw as she took another sip. She felt a shiver run through her, and she dropped the straw to straighten up.

"And what is it that you want?"

His voice dropped even lower and he glanced around him to make sure no one was listening. "For me, it's mostly been about acquiring abilities. But lately...lately all I want to find is my father." He paused a long moment, his eyes downcast. "I want to meet the man who made me. Look him in the eyes."

"What do you think you'll see in there?" Her eyes caught his for a moment, and then he looked away.

"Where I came from, I guess. Why I turned out the way I did. I'm just thinking I'll have some answers, that's all."

His voice broke a little as he said it, and Claire cocked her head to the side, regarding him as he sipped at his coffee. This quiet, introspective man whose face tightened with pain as he thought of his father could not be further from the beast who had forced her to terrorize the Campbell family. She wondered how they could both live in the same skin.

Suddenly Sylar felt a chill run over him. All the best hunters know when they are being stalked. His eye was drawn to a thin white man entering the diner wearing an off-the-rack suit and sunglasses. He might as well have a sign around his neck reading, "I am a Federal agent." The agent looked to his left and Sylar looked to see another agent entering the street-side door.

"Emergency exit," he told her quietly, "walk, don't run. Move!" Claire looked around and saw the agents, then rose from her seat. Sylar put some cash on the counter.

"There's only two, why don't you just take them?" Claire whispered urgently.

"They're the scouts."

Suddenly a group of soldiers heavily armed and clad in black body armour and masks ran in from the kitchen. Sylar slowed to weigh his options when a plain clothes agent placed his pistol against the back of his head. Sylar stopped short and heard a voice behind him. "Gotcha, right on the sweet spot."

"Everyone on the floor _now_!" shouted another agent, and screams erupted as the patrons of the diner sought cover. Still more agents spilled in with their guns trained on Sylar. Some gestured towards Claire, but they obviously felt the dark man was their greater priority. She looked for a moment to Sylar, caught again between the devil and the deep blue sea. She made the same decision she had on the transport plane. Better the devil you know.

"Don't let him hurt me anymore," she cried, green eyes filling with tears. "I'm so scared! Please don't let him hurt me anymore!" The agent looked at her bemusedly. Danko had given them orders to take her down with whatever means necessary, but it was hard to believe that this pretty young woman was anything but scared to death.

Still crying, she clutched the arm of the man with his gun at Sylar's head. The whole thing distracted the agents enough that Sylar had an opportunity to throw the man across the room. Several agents raised their rifles and fired, hitting Sylar in the torso, but they did not get as lucky as their comrades had in Samson Gray's house. After a moment's discomfort he threw them against the wall, where they went limp. Sylar waved at the plate glass window fronting the restaurant and it disintegrated with a crash. He grabbed Claire's hand and pulled her towards it, and they jumped through and onto the sidewalk, rushing to the car.

Agents followed them closely, and one of them shouted, "Light them up!" They levelled their powerful taser guns at the fleeing pair and fired. They missed Sylar as he broke around the car to jump into the driver's seat, but four of the darts struck Claire in the back, and she jerked and fell. She was not hurt, but the electricity momentarily scrambled her control over her muscles.

"Claire!" Sylar screamed, and almost ran out of the car to go help her. He looked around to see agents in on all sides, with still more coming along the road in their armoured vehicle. He could take them, but even for him it would be arduous and there was no guarantee they wouldn't get a good shot at him.

Left with no choice, he threw the car into drive and screeched out of the parking lot, getting around the armoured car and escaping. Claire stared after the old station wagon with disbelieving eyes. She'd somehow never imagined that he'd leave her. She didn't look at the agents who surrounded her, but gazed after Sylar until she jerked again as several more taser darts hit her, plunging her into darkness.

Sylar all but flew down the road, wondering furiously how the agents had managed to find them. He looked over at the empty passenger seat and recalled her green eyes, filled with tears as she distracted the agent with the gun on his sweet spot. _She just sidetracked me from my mission anyway_, he reasoned. He drove along for a while longer, a frown on his face, before he cursed foully and pulled a u-turn, tires laying down rubber as he did. _Stupid_, he thought, _damn stupid! _He kept driving anyhow.

***

Nathan was standing at the Targets board again as Danko entered the room and walked swiftly toward him.

"Reports are in from the diner, they brought in your daughter."

Nathan felt relief pour through him like an avalanche, but managed to keep his expression taciturn.

"Sylar?"

Danko took a breath and shook his head.

"DHS is trying to take us down and all we have to show for it is an 18 year old cheerleader," he growled, then turned to deal with Abby Collins, who bore down on him with papers in her hand.

***

After the agents who held Claire had thoroughly swept the area to make sure Sylar wasn't planning a rescue attempt, they returned to the armoured vehicle where they received orders to pack up and return to base. Hooded and uniformed, all the men in their black combat gear looked identical, including the tall one who entered last. The van's reverse warning sounded as it backed up, then screeched to a halt. Muffled shouts could be heard as the vehicle rocked on its tires.

"Hey, something's wrong," said their handler in D.C., rising to his feet as he heard the choked sounds. Speaking through his headset he called, "Team Leader this is -" he was interrupted by a fresh round of horrific screaming.

Gulping, he tried again. "Team Leader, this is Central, please respond."

They would never respond. One of the hooded men jumped out of the back of the van, then pulled his mask up to take a deep breath. Sylar held a heavy-duty Dell laptop in his hand, and when he turned back to the vehicle, his boots left bloody footprints. The handler in D.C. continued to call out through the radio as Sylar turned to pull the drug drip out of Claire's nose. Broken pieces of armoured men and blood filled the cargo area.

She roused, her eyes still clouded. "You came back for me," she slurred, and smiled beautifully, her head lolling on her neck.

He thought about lying, telling her he'd come back for the computer, but he couldn't. "Yes. I came back for you." He lifted her up and carried her gently against his chest while she lapsed back into unconsciousness.

Sylar walked towards the late model truck he had acquired from a helpful civilian who had also provided a few hundred dollars. Police would later find the man impaled against the wall of a nearby gas station . He opened the crew door pulled out the corpse of the man who had until recently worn the uniform Sylar disguised himself with. The dark man dropped it unceremoniously to the ground, then placed Claire in the passenger seat and drove away.

***

Back at Building 26, Danko received the report of the escape and stalked up to Nathan, Who again stared contemplatively at the Targets bulletin board.

"Sylar returned to the van. He killed my agents and took your daughter. Reports also indicate that she _helped_ him escape that diner. The kid gloves are off, Senator. Your daughter is now an accomplice to the murder of my men, and as such both of them have been designated as terrorists. You can consider her free pass revoked."

He left Nathan standing there, his face hollowed out with shock. The senator picked up the phone to call Noah Bennet, pulling his ear away from the receiver at the shout from the other end.

Micah watched all of this from his feed into Building 26's Central Command and breathed a sigh of relief. The machine told him that one of the computers that had been with the task force was now moving away from the diner, and he guessed that Sylar had taken it with him. Micah told all the traffic cams in the direction the fugitives were heading to not report Sylar and Claire as they passed. This was all he could do now, they would have to take care of themselves for a little while longer. It was time to begin the rescue of Tracy Strauss, the woman who bore his mother's face.


	9. Chapter 9: The Chain

Chapter 9: The Chain

Claire came to on the highway, seated in an unfamiliar vehicle. She sat up quickly, then almost collapsed again as her head spun violently. The agents, knowing her regenerative abilities, had given her an extremely high dosage. Not enough to do any harm and thus be rejected by her body's healing ability, but certainly enough to leave her very sedated. She looked over to see who the driver was, hoping it wasn't an agent. She felt a surge of relief when she saw Sylar, dark eyes focused on the road.

"You're awake."

"Mostly," she cleared her throat and asked, "Where are we? What happened?"

"Don't you remember?"

"Not really. You...left, and then they put one of those drug drips in my nose... You came back for me?"

Sylar looked at her searchingly, then narrowed his eyes in irritation. He didn't want to have to say it again. "I came back for that," he grumbled, gesturing at the bloody laptop. "They tracked me twice in one week and I need more information, I need to see how they work"

"Then why bring me, why not just leave me there?"

"You just happened to be there. Besides, we made a deal, cheerleader. You come with me until I find my father. Don't think you can get off that easily."

"Well, thanks anyhow." She meant it, and he looked at her sidelong, not sure what to say.

Claire straightened and crossed her arms over her chest, taking a deep breath. "What happened to the men who captured me?" Sylar gave her a significant look, then turned back to the road. "You killed them? Why did you do that?"

"I would think you would be grateful that I rescued you in the first place."

"You could have gotten me and that computer without killing them!"

"Under the circumstances I didn't believe negotiations were possible."

Claire stared at him, aghast. Every time she discovered a human, even vulnerable side to him, he reverted to this monster who had an absolute disregard for human life.

"Why do you keep doing this? Why do you keep hurting people?"

His eyebrows drew together darkly, but he refused to answer. Eventually Claire stopped glaring at him and the motion of the truck lulled her to sleep. Sylar kept looking at her sleeping face in the rear view mirror, lit in flashes by the highway lights as they passed. When he had first taken her from the plane, it would have been impossible for her to feel safe enough in his presence to fall asleep. Now she was curled in the seat and occasionally a smile would cross her dreaming face. _Strange_, he thought, _I wonder what has changed_.

***

Claire woke up as the rising sun beamed in the wind shield. The truck was parked in a rest area just off the highway overlooking a lake. She blinked sleepily at the sunshine on the water for a moment before turning to the driver's seat. Sylar was sleeping. His mobile mouth was still and his brow relaxed. His intense eyes were closed, long lashes fanning his pale cheeks. He looked just like any other man. Then his eyes opened, and in the direct light of the sun she saw that they were not black as she had always thought, but a rich brown. They gazed at each other for a long moment. A raven landed with a hoarse cry on the post outside Claire's window, startling both of them. He stared at the bird with distant eyes, then turned on the truck and drove away.

They rode without speaking for hours, stopping only for gas and bathroom breaks, buying sandwiches in cellophane from the stations and driving as they ate. Claire turned on the radio, playing find the station as they drove further west. Claire was staring meditatively out the window at the passing trees when Sylar gasped then slammed on the brakes to screech into the parking lot of a boarded up restaurant. A peeling sign on the storefront read 'Big Jim's Franks & Fries.' It looked as if it had been abandoned for years.

"What the hell?" Claire questioned, but Sylar ignored her and got out, staring fixedly at the restaurant. Claire got out of the truck and went to stand beside him, wondering what he was seeing. "What is this? Why did you stop?" She wasn't sure why she bothered, apparently she was getting the silent treatment today. His expression was distant as he raised his fingers and boards starting flying from the windows of the abandoned diner. Claire ducked a few errant boards, squawking with displeasure.

Sylar ripped off enough of the boards to reveal a filthy glass door, and Claire followed as entered the restaurant. It was dark and dusty, furniture haphazardly pushed against the walls. Dust motes swirled in the shafts of sunlight that poured through the boards on the windows. Sylar put his hands in his pockets and his body language was very changed. His self-confident swagger had gone, replaced by rounded shoulders and hesitant steps.

Claire was disconcerted by all of this. "So what are we looking for?" she whispered. She almost felt as if the place had been quiet for so many years that it resented the sound of human voices.

"Something happened here." His voice was also quiet, low pitched.

Claire coughed in the dust. "Yeah, like a million years ago."

"I've been here before."

"How do you know?"

"I remember. My father was here too."

He stood in the centre of the space and looked around as if in his eyes it looked very different. His eyes seemed very far away and he barely breathed for almost a minute.

"Hello? Where did you just go?" Claire's voice recalled him to himself, and he blinked in the strong afternoon sunlight.

"I can remember my father."

"Are you sure?"

His mouth twisted, and he began to take apart a section of a booth, pieces flying carelessly over his shoulder. He reached into the hole he had made and pulled out a dusty toy corvette. "Positive." That familiar malevolent timbre returned to his voice, but for the first time Claire heard it ring false and she turned to look more closely at him. He held the small toy gently, and she saw in his face a vulnerability she had never seen there before. His eyes went distant as he held the toy, and she remembered the special her grandmother had fed him, the one with the power to see the history of objects he touched. Suddenly Sylar stiffened, and an expression of absolute fear and horror stamped itself on his face.

"Mommy," he whispered, and then again, and then again, lost and broken, tears standing in his eyes.

Claire could not help herself, she could not bear to see anyone in such pain, not even him. She reached up and put her small hands on either side of his face. "Hey!" she called, but he continued to stare into some terrible middle distance. She patted him lightly on the cheeks. "Hey, what is it? What do you see?" His eyes cleared and he refocused on her, cupping his hands over hers, trapping them against his stubbled cheeks. His eyes demanded answers she did not have.

"I saw him – my father. He took some money from a man, then he went out to the parking lot – he killed my mother, and he just left me here." He released her hands and straightened. "He used an ability, just like mine, he cut the top of her head off."

His voice was hollow and almost too low to be audible, and he hung his head, defeated. Claire stood before him, not sure what to do. He was her enemy, a monster, she reminded herself fiercely. Then she looked at him and thought, _but he's just so sad_.

Sylar continued to stand there, lost in memory. As the sun began to creep further west, Claire's impatience broke free. "Sylar! Are we just going to stand here all day?" He ignored her, lips pressed tight. "Look, I understand what it's like to find out your parent has betrayed you..."

Sylar snapped. He grabbed a chair and threw it aside, glorying in the sound it made when it shattered. He glared at her with his monstrous eyes and snarled, "He killed my mother, how could you possibly understand that? You're father has lied to you, but he has protected you with his life, I've watched him do it!"

Many would not have been able to stand under the weight of his anger, but they did not have Claire's fortitude. She marched up to Sylar to stand a hands width away from him, and glared up into his eyes. "Life is full of lots of disappointments Sylar, grow up. You want an idyllic childhood and a normal life? Well so do I, but you can't always get what you want."

Her green eyes held his resolutely, and reminded him of another blonde's blue eyes, filled with tears. _We can't take anything we want anymore_, Elle whispered in his memory. So alike, so different. His response to Claire now was the same as his answer to Elle had been then. "Who says?" He buried his hands in Claire's hair, revelling at the softness, and pulled her mouth to his.

Claire stiffened in absolute shock. Of all the things she would've expected him to do, this was the last. He did not stop, and after a moment her shock eased a bit, and it was replaced by a hot curiousity. She relaxed under his hands, tilted her nose so that he had better access, then kissed him back. Kissing Maya had been a con, making love with Elle had been a feeble experiment in normalcy. He'd desired them, but needed neither of them. He _needed_ Claire. When she kissed him back, he moaned and walked her backwards until she was pressed against the wall. When he ran his mouth down her neck to her collarbone, Claire came back to herself. She shoved him hard in the chest, surprising him enough so that he staggered back a pace or two.

A volcanic flow of anger consumed him. Rejection, always rejection. Sold like meat from a man who didn't want him to a man who didn't want his wife, rejected by his mother when she realized he was special. The only member of his family who wanted him had been viciously murdered in the parking lot of this damned diner. Now her too, the cheerleader he had chased so long and who he needed so much. He used his ability and threw her up against the wall, pressing her so tightly there she had a hard time gaining a breath.

"Why did you do that to me? What the _hell_ are you doing? " she demanded indignantly.

"Because you're here and I need to express my feelings. You use me for some joyride, an escape from your fathers and their lies. I've got news for you Claire. There is no escape. There is only pain. And you can never outrun it, no matter what you do or where you go." He dropped her, and she fell heavily on the floor. "It's over, go home to your fathers Claire. Go live your normal life, whatever is left of it." He turned and walked towards the broken door. He'd had enough. If darkness was all there was, so be it.

"Wait!" her voice caught him, held him for a moment. "Where are you going?"

He turned back toward her, and his face was full of shadows. "To find my father. Because now that I've seen the truth, I want him to die."

"You can't!" She ran after him and grabbed his elbow "Look, I understand what it's like to find out that your father is not who you thought he was. I understand that you feel betrayed, but you can't just kill him!" He tried to shrug her grip away, but she persisted and spun him to face her. "Sylar, listen to me. You can stop this. You don't have to be a monster anymore."

"Then what am I?" He roared, and Claire jumped back. In all her encounters with him she had never seen him lose his composure. He grabbed her small shoulders and held her so tightly another woman would have cried out in pain. "Do you know what happened to my mother, Claire? When she found out I had abilities, she called me a monster, she grabbed her scissors and came at me. When I tried to take them from her, she – there was an accident and she..." He pushed Claire away sharply, almost toppling her to the ground, and stalked into the deepening shadows. "I killed my own mother. I killed Elle, I've killed so many others. If I'm not a monster then what else am I? I am going to go find my father and then -"

"Then take me with you."

He stopped short and regarded her with wide eyes, mouth open in shock. "Why would you want to do that?" He almost stammered, and she wondered if this is what he had sounded like when his name was Gabriel and he was just a watchmaker in New York City.

"I don't want you to kill anyone."

For a moment he almost looked disappointed, but then he snorted derisively. "Oh, of course not, Claire the Invincible Girl to the rescue, saving innocents from bad old me."

"No. You don't get it – I mean, I hardly get it. Look, I just don't want _you_ to have to kill anyone else, not because I'm worried about them, but because I'm worried about you." She grabbed for his hand, wrapping it in both of hers. "Because you can't change what you've done, but you can choose to do differently now. You don't have to be a monster, Sylar."

They locked gazes for a long moment, and she watched a stream of conflicting emotions cross his face. Finally he set his jaw and rasped, "We'll see."

He started towards the truck, now dim in the falling night. Claire took a deep breath and followed him. When the dome light came on as she got in, he sent her a questioning look. She nodded firmly and buckled herself in. She was in this of her own free will now, and she would see it through.


	10. Chapter 10: Gold Dust Woman

A/N: Here's where it gets tricky. If you haven't watched the end of the third season, there are going to be some serious holes in the storyline. Again, I'm not writing a novelization of the third season, just an alternate version of it. The conversation between Sylar and Samson Gray in this chapter goes exactly as it does in the episode "Shades of Gray," and I could write it no better. I know this is kind of a different approach to an AU, so I hope its making some kind of sense!

Thanks for all the support, this is my first fanfic and the positive reviews are really giving me a boost!

Chapter 10: Gold Dust Woman

Nathan flew away from Building 26 and tried not to think about how badly he had screwed all this up. His mother thought he was an idiot (nothing new there), Peter hated him, Claire was missing, and Danko was now running the whole operation. He had flown around almost aimlessly for a few hours with no idea what to do now, or where to go. It was the first time in his life that this had ever happened to him.

He fell about 10 feet in the air when his BlackBerry rang, then pulled it out of his pocket to get rid of it before they could track him. He looked reflexively at the screen and saw the words:

THIS IS REBEL.

He jerked his arm back just before throwing the phone away, and landed on a convenient building. The message blinked on the screen for a few seconds and then was replaced by:

I KNOW WHERE YOUR DAUGHTER IS.

"How can I trust you?" Nathan asked, though he knew Rebel could not hear him.

**YOU CAN TRUST ME.**

Nathan spun to look around him but there was no one there. A D.C. address popped up on the screen.

"I must be crazy," Nathan muttered as he took to the sky.

The address led him to a riverside dock. Nathan flew low around the dock, looking for Rebel or at least whoever was claiming to be Rebel. The sun had not yet risen, and the area was dark and deserted. At last Nathan saw a figure in the pre-dawn light, standing at the end of a pier. Nathan did another quick circle to make sure he wasn't flying into a trap, then landed gently on the pier. The figure looked around and Nathan saw it was a teenaged kid, maybe 13 or 14 years old. He was African-American with gorgeous black curls and a backpack over his shoulders. Nathan's first instinct was to ask him where his mother was.

"Nathan Petrelli?" The boy's voice broke as he spoke, and Nathan felt sorry for him for a moment. Puberty was not fun.

The boy grinned brilliantly. "I'm Rebel."

"You can't be. You're a kid."

The boy only smiled and pulled out his cell phone, an iPhone that looked as if it had been tinkered with. He closed his eyes and all the lights on the buildings around the pier turned on. Nathan blinked in the sudden glare, hissing in surprise. Rebel looked to his iPhone again and the lights turned off.

"Okay, so I believe you, you're Rebel. How did you do that?"

"I can talk to machines, computers, stuff like that."

"Wow, that's new," Nathan said, then straightened and looked sharply at Rebel. "You said you knew where my daughter is?"

Rebel nodded. "I'll tell you where she is."

"Great! Where is she?"

"There's a catch. I want you to take me with you, I want to meet Claire and Sylar."

"Claire, sure, but nobody wants to meet Sylar. Especially no one with abilities."

"In all this time, he's never hurt her. He's kept her safe. He can change, he just needs someone to help him." Rebel grin shone again, and Nathan couldn't help but smile back. "Plus, I want to see what flying feels like."

Sylar drove into the night long after they'd left the abandoned restaurant behind. Claire fell asleep in the passenger seat again, but this time when she woke up Sylar was still driving. Eventually, they turned onto an old rutted highway, then off that onto a dirt road. The truck bounced through the deep puddles, spraying thick clay mud as far up as the windows. Finally, they pulled into a narrow driveway, carved through the forest. Sylar parked the truck in front of an old trailer with red siding. This far north the touch of autumn had begun to colour the trees and brush with yellow and orange. Birds sang in the trees around them, and the only motion was the wood smoke billowing out of the chimney on the roof.

This was it, they had finally reached their destination. Neither of them could quite comprehend it. For a moment they just sat there staring at the trailer. At last they got out, closing the doors quietly behind them. Sylar walked slowly towards the door of the trailer, reminding Claire too much of a stalking tiger. She trailed along after him, watchful but determined not to interfere unless necessary.

Sylar entered the trailer without knocking, something Claire would never get used to. The interior of the trailer was very dark, decorated with horrid wallpaper and many stuffed animals. There were overfull ashtrays on every available surface, and the room stank of stale smoke. _They both like the dark_, Claire thought, and wondered uneasily what else they had in common. The only light came through a filthy glass sliding door on the wall opposite the entrance. Sylar stood at it for a moment, his face filled with uncertainty. Claire touched his elbow, and he looked down at her. Her eyes were sympathetic and encouraging.

"You can do it, Sylar. Go ahead."

After a long moment he nodded, then tapped on the glass door. On the other side of the glass, a small wooden landing with stairs led down to a large room,. The bare studs and exposed wires indicated that the room had been started but never finished. It was obviously a taxidermist's workshop – there were mounted animals and skins everywhere, and a sour chemical smell filled the air. A man in an ancient grey cardigan sat with his back to them, next to a wood-burning stove. He was hunched over a table, and his shoulders moved as he worked on something there.

Sylar's expression was nervous as he tapped on the glass door.

"It's open," the man called, his voice weak.

Sylar opened the door and stepped onto the landing.

"Almost got the order ready," the man wheezed, suppressing a cough. "Got a lot of pickups today?"

"I'm not here for a pickup," said Sylar. His voice was low and menacing, and Claire took a step closer to him.

The man stilled and sat up a little, but he did not turn. "No?"

"It's me, Gabriel. Your son."

"Is that so?" The old man sounded unfazed, and he carried on with his work.

"That is so."

Sylar stepped down the stairs. Claire, close behind him, shied away from the trophies and felt uneasy under the stare of so many glass eyes.

"What brings you all the way out here?"

"I had some questions about myself. Who I am, where I came from. And then I remembered. You abandoned me and killed my mother." Violence waited in every word.

"So?" The old man continued to keep his back to them, unperturbed. "What now?"

"Now? I kill you." Claire grabbed at his arm but he shrugged her off, his lambent eyes fixed on the old man.

The old man finally turned to look at Sylar, coughing. Clear plastic tubes emerged from his nose, leading down to an oxygen tank on his hip. He gave off an overwhelming impression of grey: grey clothes, grey hair and beard, grey skin. He was thin, stooped and obviously dying.

"Go right ahead," he chuckled, as Claire and Sylar gaped at him. He moved away from them around the end of a table and put down his tools. "You kill me, or the cancer does. Either way, I die." He coughed tearingly and reached into his pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

He stopped and faced Sylar, lighting his smoke. "I haven't got all day," he croaked, and brushed by his long-lost son to step outside. The door closed behind him as he disappeared into the sunlight, and Sylar stared after him in dismay.

"I told you that fathers don't have the answers you want," Claire said softly, and he whirled to face her. She had been so quiet he'd almost forgotten she was there. "Now what are you going to do?"

"He's dying!"

"I know, I heard him, and I'm sorry." She came closer, tilting her head back to look into his eyes. "You should talk to him, just the two of you. If I go outside, will you promise not to kill him?"

"Let's say I promise you I won't. Why would you believe me?"

"I have no reason to believe you, it's true. You lie like its easier than breathing for you." Claire dragged a hand through her hair, her brow furrowed and a frown closing her eyes. After a moment she looked back up at him piercingly. "But if you say you won't kill him, I'll believe you."

She wasn't lying, she really believed that he would hold his word. She never lied to him, as if both of them had been lied to so much there was nothing she wanted more than the truth.

"I'll think about it," he said finally.

"Not good enough."

"Alright! I won't kill him, are you satisfied?"

"Yes." She turned and walked back the way they had come, eager to be out of the smokey room full of dead animals. He turned away from her, taking a better look at Gray's workroom.

"Hey," she spoke from the top of the steps just before the glass door.

"What?"

"If any of this is going to change, you have to keep that promise."

She gave him one last look, then left. She took all the light with her, leaving the room colder and more filled with shadow.

"You're still here!" She heard Gray from behind her, through a hacking cough. Then the glass door behind her was closed, and as she made her way through the trailer she hoped she hadn't made the wrong decision.

Sylar walked out of the dark trailer into the late morning sunlight, blinking in surprise. He felt he had been in his father's house for days, not a few hours. Everything had changed, he had seen his future and it was black. He would never be anything but a hunter. He would only kill until he forgot why, until it was meaningless. Since he would never die, he would go on and on forever, alone, trapped in futility.

He looked around the yard and found Claire. She stood looking up at the sky, her hair tickled by the wind as the sun burnished it bright gold. His jaw clenched when he saw her, and he was almost overcome by a wild desire to kill her. He had felt the same urge the night he had murdered Elle, as if ending the person closest to him would destroy this foolish hope that he could change. He couldn't kill Claire, though, nothing ever would. The only thing left was to make her as foul and monstrous as he was, to prove that everyone was a monster. It was the only way he wouldn't be alone.

As he began to stalk toward her, Nathan Petrelli dropped out of the sky, landing between him and Claire. Sylar and Claire both froze in shock and could only stare as Nathan helped a black pre-teen boy from his back. The boy looked around and when he saw Claire he gave her a smile so infectious she couldn't help but smile back.

"What are you doing here? How did you find us?" Sylar snarled.

"I've come for my daughter." Nathan answered, keeping himself between Sylar and his daughter. "Rebel, now that you've had your look let's get the hell away from this maniac."

"No, wait!" Claire said as Nathan started toward her. She looked at Sylar and smiled, "It's alright, he hasn't hurt me, he even -" she darted a look towards Sylar. "It's alright," she finished awkwardly. Rebel stepped around Nathan and walked toward Sylar.

"I'm Rebel, and I have an ability too," again that lightning smile, "I can talk to machines. The laptop you took from the agents at the Olympic Coffee Shop told me you were here."

Sylar cocked his head to the side, and Claire began to feel uneasy. She was suddenly reminded of storms in Texas. Before they rolled in, they stilled the air and filled it with menace. Sylar was like that somehow, the calm before the storm.

"Well, that's very interesting. What do you want?"

"I know you have a problem. I think I can help."

"And do tell me, what is my problem?"

"You've forgotten who you really are," the boy said sincerely.

"You're going to help me with that?"

"Yeah, I can. You're one of us, people with powers – we're all connected. You don't have to be alone."

Sylar flinched at the sound of that word, and the storm grew a little closer. "What do you know about being alone?" Sylar rumbled, eyebrow raised.

"My Dad and Mom died, I have no family left. I know all about alone. We can help each other. I'm the only one who can see how special you are." The boy's face became very serious, and his voice broke, resting on the pitch his adult self would have. "You can save us all."

_Do more, be more,_ his father said in his mind, _take every challenge_. _Fight hard, risk it all!_ _Take real power, real authority. Change everything, change the world. Just to see if I can._

There would be only one way to best his evil, broken father. He would do what the old man would never be able to do. He would change everything. Nathan Petrelli had literally dropped in his lap a person with the perfect ability to help him make that happen.

Sylar's eyes drifted toward the ground before he looked up, and Claire recognized the look in his eyes. Just the same as Homecoming, holding Jackie up against a wall. "It's too late."

She gasped and started to cry out, but it was already too late. The storm broke.

Sylar gestured at Nathan, Claire and Rebel and they flew against the side of the trailer, hitting it so hard the breath was knocked out of them. Sylar stalked towards them, stopping in front of Rebel and staring at him with his merciless eyes, that sideways smile on his lips.

"You really shouldn't have let me go in there alone, Claire."

"Sylar! What are you doing?" she shouted breathlessly, fighting against her invisible bonds.

"I told you before, Claire. This is what I am. I've just given up trying to be anything else." He bore his ability down on Rebel's head, and the boy screamed as the skin began to peel back from his skull, drenching his face in blood.

"Sylar!" she screamed, then desperately, "Gabriel!"

The name pierced him, and he flinched in pain. It snapped Sylar's concentration, and as his power faltered the three of them tumbled to the ground. Nathan scrabbled to Rebel, who was crying quietly, and slung the boy over his shoulder. Sylar panted harshly for a moment, then gathered himself.

"Get out of here," he spat. "Get out of here before I change my mind."

Nathan ran to Claire, but she gestured for him to wait. She met Sylar's gaze, her eyes deadly and cold.

"You are just a killer, a monster. I thought I was wrong about you, that everyone was wrong about you. But you'll never change. And next time, I will kill you."

Then she stepped into Nathan's arms, and the three disappeared skyward.

Samson Gray, recovered from Sylar's attack, had been attracted by the commotion. He had worked his way out of his workroom and stood on the deck, watching the action. He chuckled as he met his son's eyes and nodded knowingly, then tottered back into his home. Sylar barely resisted the temptation to destroy it all: throw down the building, tear up the trees, leave this place as ruined as he was. Instead he got into his truck and drove away.

_Well did she make you cry,_

_Make you break down,_

_Shatter your illusions of love._

_Is it over now,_

_Do you know how_

_To pick up the pieces and go home._

- Fleetwood Mac


	11. Chapter 11: The White Whale

Chapter 11: The White Whale

Nathan flew Claire and the boy calling himself Rebel to the nearest town to buy some first aid supplies. None of them wanted to go to a hospital to get Rebel's scalp injury attended to, so Claire cleaned it and used some tape to hold it closed. Sylar hadn't drilled down the bone before he was interrupted, so it was just surface damage. They sat outside a McDonald's in the sunshine, trying to figure out what to do next.

"I have to get back to Washington," Rebel insisted, "I have to help Tracy Strauss out of the cell _you _put her in." He glared at Nathan who hung his head a little, dodging the boy's eyes.

"That's fine," said Claire, "I have to get to my Dad anyways." She looked up at her biological father and said, "My other Dad, that is.'

"Why? We can't go to Washington Claire, Danko has outed me and the whole place is looking for us. If we go to Noah we'll destroy his cover and put him at risk."

"Dad needs to know Sylar is on the loose, we need to do something!"

Nathan laughed disbelievingly. "Sylar has been free since the day you helped him escape from that plane!"

"Excuse me? Do you have something you want to say to me?"

Nathan got up from the picnic table and stood in front of her, which drew her up as well. Rebel drank his milkshake and tried to stay out of the way.

"You helped him escape not once, but twice! When you were captured in the restaurant, he came back to rescue you. What the hell were you doing out there with him?" Nathan's voice was not quite a yell, but it was close.

"How _dare_ you say that to me? The only reason I freed Sylar in the first place was because you and my dad captured him and put him on that plane. I helped him in the diner because the only alternative was being captured and taken God knows where!"

"And what was your plan? Turn into Bonnie and Clyde?"

"I was going to use him to shut you down."

Nathan's jaw dropped and he stared at her. "You were going to use _Sylar_? And how many people do you think would have ended up dead, did you think of that? How many people would that psychopath have murdered to shut down this operation?"

"How many people have _you_ killed rounding up innocent people?" She shot back, anger colouring her face. "I was going to stop him from killing anyone!"

Nathan looked significantly at Rebel's bandage. Claire closed her eyes, knowing she was trying to use her anger to distract her from how stupid she felt. She'd thought he was changing, that he could be a better person. Whatever change of heart he had been experiencing had clearly not survived the confrontation with his father. _What the hell had happened in that house?_ She could only wonder, but something had obviously gone very wrong in there.

Finally, Claire took a deep breath and met Nathan's eyes. "Look, there's enough blame to go around. We've all made mistakes, but it's not time for pointing fingers. We have to do something about Sylar."

"And what do you think that might be? We're on the run as fugitives from the U.S. Government. We don't know where Sylar is, where he's going or what he plans to do when he gets there. Now that he knows Rebel can track him he's going to go even further off the grid."

Claire's eyes filled as the gravity of the situation finally got to her. "Damn it!" she mumbled. "I really thought he was changing, that I was getting through to him..."

Nathan's face darkened and he grabbed her arm, dragging her out of Rebel's earshot. He grabbed her hands, holding them in both of his. "Claire, did you and he... Did he do anything to you?"

His emphasis on the word "do" left no doubt what he was asking about. Claire snatched her hands away from his and whirled before he could see her face.

"No," she managed. The memory of the kiss in the abandoned restaurant flashed before her, but she shook it furiously away. "No. He didn't _do_ anything."

They were interrupted by Rebel's modified iPhone as it buzzed a warning. Rebel pulled it out and closed his eyes. As Claire came closer she could see images flickering on the screen too fast to be identified.

When he looked up, his dark eyes were serious. Claire was struck by his maturity and dignity, rare enough in an adult let alone a kid pushing 13. "Look, whatever your plan is, you have to get me back to Washington right now or my plans will fall apart, and I may not get another chance."

"Alright, we get you back to Washington and then my daughter and I are going to Mexico to hole up until everything calms down a bit."

"He's a kid, we can't just leave him alone!"

"It's okay Claire, I'm pretty good at taking care of myself, and this is something I have to do." Claire found herself becoming convinced by his directness and self confidence. It was not hard to believe that he was very capable of taking care of himself.

"Can't we at least help?"

"I appreciate the offer, I really do...but, like your Dad said you're kind of wanted fugitives right now. It'll be easier for me to get around on my own."

Nathan smiled smugly at Claire, who saw she had been outmaneuvered and threw her arms up in defeat.

"Fine! We'll take you back to D.C. _Then _we'll talk about Mexico."

As they were cleaning up their lunch, Claire cocked her head curiously at Rebel. "Hey, what's your real name anyhow?"

He shone his sunny smile at her and said, "Micah Sanders."

Claire put her hand out. "Nice to meet you, Micah Sanders."

He took her hand and shook it firmly. "Nice to meet you too, Claire Bennet." They looked at one another with serious faces which broke a moment later into giggles.

Nathan smiled and folded them both into his arms. "Let's go, kids."

***

She lost the argument about Mexico, too. In truth, she didn't have any better ideas. They couldn't go to her Dad without putting him in danger. Even if they could, she couldn't argue Nathan's point that she had no clue what Sylar was up to. So they ended up in Patzcuaro in a fleabag motel that had cost Nathan his last dollar.

She stalked out of the room after telling Nathan that she was going for a walk, shaking her head in irritation. _I'll figure something out_, she thought furiously. _Great plan._

Claire asked the hotel attendant where the nearest pawn shop was, then began walking according to the directions he gave her. As she walked by her blonde hair caused quite a bit of a stir; this was not a tourist town and blondes were rare. Perhaps some would have called out to the pretty girl who strode down the street, but her storm cloud expression put them off.

The interior of the pawnshop was cool and quiet in comparison to the sunwashed street outside, and Claire paused just inside to let her eyes adjust. A middle aged man with a large moustache was leaning against a glass counter.

"Can I help you, miss?" His English was good, if heavily accented.

"I'd like to sell this necklace," she said, reaching behind her to unclasp it. She squeezed it in her hand for a moment before handing it to him. "How much can I get for it?"

***

Sylar saw Danko walk toward the back door of the club followed by...Sylar. He smiled wickedly for a moment as he surveyed himself. He didn't need the urgent demands of his Hunger to be excited about gaining shapeshifting. He absolutely could not wait to try that out. His smile faded when his doppelganger pulled a gun from his jacket pocket and raised it toward Danko, then disappear out the back. He broke into a run, shoving through the crowds in the packed club. The stereos blaring dance music did not quite drown out the sound of a gunshot, and Sylar's heart rose into his throat. _If Danko's killed my chance at that ability, he will pay,_ he thought viciously. The idea that the shapeshifter might actually have the drop on Danko never occurred him. The man was an idiot, but he performed well in the field. When Sylar came around the corner he saw what he had expected, Danko holding a smoking gun with the shapeshifter on the ground.

"You've killed him!"

Danko looked down at the Sylar on the ground. "No, I haven't. He's still alive."

Sylar was surprised in spite of himself, and a smile curved his mouth. He advanced on his copy, finger raised. The shapeshifter had come to himself a little, and looked up at Sylar with terrified eyes. _Like a rabbit_, Sylar thought.

"Wait. Can you do it without leaving the..." Danko gestured to his forehead.

Sylar smiled like a shark, all white teeth in the dark. This just got better and better, a partner who fed him. He slammed the door to the club behind him, then he looked down at his copy and considered his options. He could use his empathic talent to gain the ability, but it was far easier to just open up the head and look at the brain. On the other hand, leaving his calling card on this particular corpse would only advertise that he'd gained the ability. It might be advantageous for that to be his ace in the hole.

Sylar leaned over the shapeshifter, eliciting a scream of horror, but for the moment all Sylar did was examine him closely. Since he'd chosen Sylar's own face, it was fairly easy to figure out how he'd done it. _There it is_, he thought, then felt the relief from his Hunger as his DNA assimilated the new information. He looked up to Danko, content as a cat with cream on its lips.

"Have you got it?" Danko asked flatly. When Sylar nodded he grabbed the shapeshifter's hair and jerked his head forward. Expressionless, Danko took out his knife and slammed it into the nape of the man's neck. The shapeshifter's cries broke off abruptly and Sylar jumped back. Danko pulled out the knife and replaced it with a railroad spike pulled from a pocket in his leather jacket.

"What, are you practicing?" Sylar asked mockingly.

Danko shot him a dirty look. "You never know. I'm going to call this in, you go back to ... wherever you go when you're not stalking me."

Sylar nodded and gave Danko a hearty slap on the back, earning a disgusted glare. He winked at a few of the prettier girls as he made his way out of the club, twirling his key ring around his index finger. _Very productive day,_ he congratulated himself, _one step closer to doing what he couldn't._


	12. Chapter 12: Dreams and Revelations

Chapter 12: Dreams and Revelations

Angela Petrelli woke up in the morning sunlight as it shone pure colour through the stained glass mirrors of the cathedral. She opened her eyes and saw her beloved youngest boy holding her. She blinked sleep away and smiled at him.

"You feeling better?" he asked quietly, and she pulled herself up in the pew to face him. Her eyes were brighter than they had been since he rescued her from that elevator shaft.

"I slept, and I had a dream."

"What about?"

Angela looked up at a stained glass window depicting an angel, arms open in benediction. "That. Or should I say...her." She smiled gently up into the angel's face.

After a moment she took a deep breath and stood, regaining some of her distinctive icy veneer. "I know what we have to do now. We need to go find Nathan and Claire. We have to bring this family together." Angela pulled her eyes from the angel and looked down to Peter who was still seated in the pew. Her eyes were dark and full of mysteries. "But first, we need to go find Sylar."

This caught Peter completely off guard. "What? Sylar? Why would we want to find him?"

"I can't explain it right now, but Sylar must come with us to find my sister."

"Your sister?"

Angela smiled at her son and stroked his cheek, then slapped him sharply and strode off. With a rueful shake of his head, Peter followed. "How are we even going to find Sylar?" he called out after her. She did not slow, her heels clacking along the stone floors of the cathedral.

"He's here in Washington, staying in a motel. He'll be going back there soon, we have to hurry. And Peter, I have to talk to him alone."

"What, are you crazy? No way! Didn't he try to kill you in Primatech?"

"He did, and I earned his anger there. No, he won't kill me, I've dreamed it, and this is something I have to do alone." They left the church and turned into a little alley beside it, where Angela turned and put her arms around her son's shoulders.

"Don't worry, my boy, everything will be fine."

"Yeah, famous last words." Peter had never been any good at denying his mother, and he picked her up gently and flew off in the direction she pointed.

***

Sylar made his way back to his motel room after revealing the shapeshifter's dead body to Bennet. Sylar looked into the rear view mirror as he drove and played at shapeshifting. As always, he was better at using abilities than any of the people he took them from. Further proof that they hadn't deserved what he'd taken. Whistling cheerfully, Sylar pulled the key out of his pocket, then stopped short as he neared his room. The lock had been broken, and the door was hanging slightly ajar. He narrowed his eyes and blue light flared as he charged up Elle's ability. He kicked the door the rest of the way open, prepared to destroy whoever was in there.

Angela Petrelli was standing on the dingy carpet, eyes calm as she watched him burst in. The blue shocks around Sylar's hands disappeared as surprise broke his concentration, but he quickly recovered. He flicked his fingers and Angela lofted up into the air and against a wall. Angela gasped under the pressure but stayed calm, her eyes on Sylar.

"What are _you_ doing here?"

"I'm going to find my sister. You need to come with me." Sylar's jaw dropped and laughed incredulously. She wasn't lying for once, but they hadn't exactly parted on good terms. Before he could speak, she continued, "Sylar, I've deceived you and I've used you, I don't deny it. But I am telling you that you _must_ come with me. I dreamed it."

"Oh, you've dreamed it. Tell me why I shouldn't tear your head open right now and take that ability for myself?"

Angela laughed, but not happily. "Trust me, you wouldn't want it." This was true, Sylar didn't want to be able to see the future in dreams. His experience with Isaac Mendez's ability had been maddening and led directly to the death of his adoptive mother.

Sylar cocked his head suspiciously at her. Angela Petrelli had an uncanny ability to manipulate him, she always knew exactly the right words to say to provoke him into action. Still, at this moment she was thin and almost bedraggled, her usual facade broken. His first ability compelled him to find out why. He let her slide down the wall, used the puppet master's power to move her to the armchair, then released her. Angela remained in the chair, unwilling to test his patience. He stood in front of her, arms folded across his chest and a darkly skeptical expression on his face.

"Let's say I believe that you had a dream about me. Why should I care?"

"If you come with me, I'll tell you where you came from, the truth about Samson Gray and your family."

"I know everything I need to know about my family. My father murdered my mother, and he's dying a painful death right now."

"Dying?" Angela leaned forward and caught his eyes urgently. "Did you...?"

"Kill my father? No. I'm going to let the cancer do it." He was surprised when Angela closed her eyes in...relief? She reached up and caught a tear before it could touch her cheek.

"Let me explain something to you, Gabriel-"

"My name is Sylar!" He detested the leash that name put on him, reminding him that he had once been a rabbit, just like all the rest.

"As I was saying, I have been dreaming about chaos and fire – the apocalypse – since before you were born. I have lost everything important to me in order to stop those dreams from coming true."

"What does that have to do with me?"

"You have always been in those dreams Sylar. I knew you would be the most powerful of us, but that it would come at great cost. I have seen you destroying the world or saving it, I can never tell which. When I found out the manifestation of your ability, the way you killed that man, I thought I knew. You must be a monster, just like your father was."

"What do you know about my father?" Sylar put his hands on her lap and pressed his face close to hers. "Tell me."

"I knew Samson Gray very well. He was a good man once, but his ability destroyed that, and so much else." She paused and met his gaze, unfazed by his invasion of her personal space. "Like he destroyed your mother, Lauren."

Lauren! Sylar pulled away from her as if burnt and paced the confines of the small room. Angela watched him the way you watch a tiger when you're in its cage. Finally he slowed and turned to her, and most of the beast named Sylar left his eyes.

"My mother's name was Lauren?"

Angela's mouth drew down, and her green eyes filled with sadness. "Yes, and she was a lovely woman. I loved her very much."

"If you loved her, if I'm so important, how did you let my father murder her and sell me!"

"Samson was always a very unpredictable man. I had a dream about what he would do, but by then it was too late. It took me months to find you. By then you were with your mother, and she seemed harmless. I wanted you to have a little normalcy in your life. I watched you all those years, and hoped it would prevent you from becoming like your father, a monster."

Sylar laughed painfully. "Well, that certainly didn't work out for you, did it?"

"No, it did not." Angela rose to her feet and straightened her clothes. "Now, if you've decided not to kill me, we should get going. It's a long way to Arizona, we should get started right away."

"Arizona? You must be crazy, Angela. I'm a very busy man, and I don't have time to go to Arizona on a wild goose chase with you."

"If you don't go, you will do something irrevocable, something you cannot get back from. You will walk in shadow for the rest of your life."

Sylar rolled his eyes and brushed by her on his way to the door. This he'd heard before, and the tune was getting a bit old.

Angela's voice caught him as he opened to door to leave. Time to play her trump card. "Claire will hate you, and she will hate you through all the long years of your lives."

Sylar stopped and straightened suddenly, like he'd put his finger in an electric socket. "Why should I care if she hates me, what difference does it make?!" Sylar snapped as he turned back to her.

She bit her bottom lip with her teeth to catch her smile before it showed. She had him. "It's up to you. But we are going, right now." This time it was Angela that walked by him towards the door. He heard her heels tap on the pavement as she started away, leaving him staring up at the ceiling with his fists clenched. When he couldn't hear her footsteps anymore he cursed and followed her.

Peter watched Angela walk out of the room alone and breathed a deep sigh of relief. His mother was alive and Sylar was not with her. A few moments later though, a tall shadow stepped out of the building after her._ Great_, thought Peter. _Now I get to drive halfway across the country with Sylar in the back seat. Marvellous._ This whole thing was crazy, but he knew better than to argue with his mother's dreams. After all, he knew better than anyone what her dreams were like. Peter walked around the car to open the passenger door for his mother and to helped her in, then closed the it behind her. Sylar stood on the driver's side, watching him.

"So, which Sylar are you today?"

"What do you mean?" Sylar asked as he tilted his head to the side. Peter was an interesting enigma for him. It was as if his ability to see how thing worked failed when it came to Peter. He supposed it was because their powers were so alike.

"I mean, I've met a lot of Sylars," Peter replied evenly as he came around the front of the car toward Sylar. "Maniac Killer Sylar, Company Agent Sylar, Big Brother Sylar, the guy who shot my Father with a bullet I fired. Which one is it today?"

"That's a funny question, actually," Sylar smiled, then struck out to grab Peter's wrist. Peter jumped away but Sylar already had what he wanted. His face rippled and he grunted in pain, then looked up and smiled with Peter's crooked grin.

Peter looked impressed, then closed his eyes and frowned in concentration. He cursed as the pain overwhelmed him, then looked up and raised his impressive eyebrow at Sylar. "Wow, that is a good one."

Peter clambered into the driver's seat, then opened his window when Sylar didn't get in the back seat but instead walked across the parking lot.

"Hey, I thought you were coming with us?"

"Stuck in a car with Angela Petrelli across half the country?" Sylar shot over his shoulder, then disabled the alarm on his newest car, a white Mercedes Benz. "Thanks but no thanks." Peter looked at his mother and couldn't really blame him.

When he got in the Benz, Sylar took up his grip on the steering wheel and wondered how many times he'd driven across the country. There was also that time he'd driven all the way from South America to New York City. He grinned toothily into the vanity mirror on the visor, watching his face settle into its own lines. _I guess you have to put in a lot of road miles to be a supervillain_.

***

Something hinky was going on, Noah could feel it. There was no way Danko just brought in Sylar like any other person with abilities. Danko was acting oddly, unlike himself. Something was definitely not cell phone rang, and he answered it distractedly. "This is Bennet."

Noah heard street noise and a bad connection. "Noah! Angela." As if he needed to be told, he recognized that voice all too well. He cast a look around to make sure he was not being heard. "I've been worried about you."

"I've had a dream. Do you know about what happened at the place called Coyote Sands?"

"I've heard whispers, rumours. In twenty years everyone I asked always told me the same thing."

"Which is?"

"That I should never ask again."

"Peter and I are headed there now. I spoke with Nathan, he and Claire will meet us. I need you with us. It's time everyone knew the truth."

"I just have a few loose ends to tie up. They showed me a body. Our old friend with a six-inch spike in his skull."

"Sylar?"

"So they tell me, but there's only one way to be sure."

"It's not Sylar, Noah." She sounded certain, and Noah was taken aback for a moment.

"How do you know that?" He scanned around himself again then lowered his voice. "Did you dream that too?"

Angela looked over at Peter and Sylar. They were standing in line at a hotdog stand down the street from where she spoke on one of the few remaining payphones in North America. "Because he's with us."

Noah couldn't even make sense out of what she'd said for a moment. "What? What did you just say?"

"I said, Sylar is with us." Her tone was more arch than usual, if that was possible. "Now you need to walk away, Noah, and you need to get in your car and start driving."

She hung up and Noah stared disbelievingly at his cell phone. _That woman will be the death of me_, he thought as he headed towards the parkade.


	13. Chapter 13: Old Bones

Chapter 13: Old Bones

Peter, Angela and Sylar followed a seeming infinity of dirt roads, then shadows of old roads, before she signalled that they should stop. They saw an abandoned series of buildings, old and worn by the dry wind that blew constantly. Only the barest of desert plants had managed to keep a foothold. Peter stepped out of the car, pacing about to stretch his legs after the long drive. He took in the ramshackle buildings and walked over to a faded sign reading, "Coyote Sands Relocation Centre."

"You know, I still don't understand what we're doing out here, Mom." He turned to his mother, clad in a black leather jacket. She was standing very still with her arms wrapped comfortingly around herself, eyes full of memories. Sylar had been roaming around to get a look at the place, but when he heard Peter's voice he drifted back over to them.

"Yes, please tell us, because I don't understand it either," His tone was rich with exaggerated courtesy, meant to disguise his tension. He'd driven across half a continent and destroyed all of his plans in Washington just to hear the answer to that question.

"This is the place, Peter." She turned to look at Sylar. "This is where our story truly begins."

Sylar opened his mouth to retort but completely lost his train of thought as he saw Nathan Petrelli's distinctive jet trail in the clear sky. As Petrelli approached, Sylar saw Claire's hair flashing in the sun. His heart lurched in his chest before he furiously forced the feeling down and donned his characteristic insouciant demeanour. Before Nathan even completely landed Claire pulled out of his arms, her face tight with fury. She ran across the space to Sylar like an arrow from a bow. When she got there, she pulled her hand back and slapped him savagely across the face. She was bringing her hand back for another when Peter recovered enough from his surprise to grab her and pull her back.

"Claire! What are you doing?" Peter had never seen her like this. Even under duress she was a cool customer, but she was not calm right now, nor was she the least bit afraid. There were not many people in the world who would just haul off and hit Sylar without fear of terrible consequences.

"Claire and I had a little...disagreement at my father's place," Sylar said sardonically, rubbing at his cheek. Peter looked at him questioningly over Claire's blonde head. He'd watched Sylar stop bullets and it would have been child's play to stop Claire, but he hadn't.

"You tried to kill Micah!"

"I did, it's true. I failed thanks to you, Invincible Girl, so there's another item for your hero resume."

"What is he doing here?!" Claire pulled hard one more time against Peter's grip, then subsided, her eyes still spitting fire at Sylar.

"I'm responsible for him being here, Claire." Angela's cool voice pulled their gazes towards her. "This family needs to come together."

"I am not your family," Sylar grated.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Nathan and Sylar spoke in unison, then cast each other dark looks.

"Enough! There's been too much misery in this place." The deadly seriousness of her voice recalled them to the strangeness of their surroundings.

"What happened here, Ma?" Nathan asked his mother. "Why'd you call us together."

"I never wanted you to see this." Her eyes were red with emotion as she turned to face the others. "Any of you. But I realized that was a mistake." Her eyes held on Sylar's for a moment, before she walked to the open the back hatch of the Jeep they'd driven.

"To prepare for the future, you have to understand the past," she continued. "You want answers? You're going to have to dig." She emphasized her words by slamming the point of the shovel into the dry earth.

Nathan walked to her and took the shovel. He weighed it and eyed Sylar threateningly, who was untroubled. He was not afraid of Nathan Petrelli with a shovel. Finally, Nathan threw the shovel to Sylar who caught it one-handedly.

"You heard her. Dig."

Sylar smiled condescendingly and opened his hand. The shovel stood in the air a moment before kiting off toward Peter, who caught it before it could knock him over.

"I'm good."

Sylar walked a few paces away and concentrated as he looked at the dry earth. Chunks of earth, held by his power, began ripping out of the ground into a steadily growing pile. Peter shrugged and strode off a few feet to plant his shovel and start digging. Claire looked daggers at Sylar, but he only winked at her before turning back to his work. Finally she grabbed a shovel from the Jeep and began stabbing the ground angrily.

Several hours later the group looked up from their labours to see another vehicle approaching Coyote Sands. Claire recognized the tall figure that stepped out of the car despite the deepening night. She ran forward a few paces before the events of the past few days stopped her short. Noah saw Claire clearly, lit as she was by the white headlights. His heart wrenched as it always did at the sight of his daughter, but this time that pain was the sharper for how furious he was with her. They stood staring at each other for a moment before he began walking toward her.

Nathan, Angela and Peter made their way around the deepening results of the efforts toward Bennet. Noah stepped forward to shake Peter 's hand and exchange nods with Nathan and Angela.

"Hello, Noah." When Sylar stepped out of the darkness, the shadows chased him and lingered in his eyes. Noah tensed when he saw Sylar and readied himself for a fight. There was no love lost between these two and the air around them was charged with tension.

"Angela, tell me what the hell he is doing here!" He didn't look at her as he spoke, but kept his eyes on Sylar.

"Angela has some answers for me. I managed to find time in my busy schedule to come here and find out what they were." Sylar's mocking voice was a bit sharper than usual.

"You son of a bitch! Did you tell them about the shapeshifter in Washington that you murdered?"

"For the record, I did not kill the shapeshifter, your friend Danko did. After he shot the guy in the gut to make it easier for me to take his ability."

"Danko? I knew it. Only he'd be stupid enough to get into bed with you of all people." Sylar couldn't argue that one, it had been pretty easy to convince that particular rabbit to get into a boat with a fox.

"So you got that power, shapeshifting?" Noah had been carrying a sick knot in his stomach since he'd seen that body with Sylar's face. The last thing he needed was Sylar with that ability, he was a good enough chameleon already.

"Oh, I got it." He shifted to Peter's form and smiled charmingly before he morphed back to his own shape.

"Then I'd better kill you while I know who you are." Noah's voice was as flat and hard as his eyes. It always unnerved Claire to see this aspect of her father. To her, he was as soft as the teddy bears he gave her. To his adversaries, he was a ruthless killer.

Noah pulled his huge gun out of its holster in his arm and aimed it at Sylar's head. At the same time, Sylar's eyes narrowed and he made a pushing gesture that pinned Noah against the nearest building.

"Stop it!" Claire walked into Sylar's line of sight and locked eyes with him. "Put him down," she demanded, steel in her voice but no fear. She seemed to have every expectation that he would listen. Her voice broke Sylar's deadly focus on Noah and confusion darted across his face

"Hey! Enough you guys!" At the sound of Peter's voice Sylar dropped his eyes to the ground and snarled quietly, then dropped his hand to release Noah. Claire turned and ran to her father as he fell heavily to the bare earth.

"Are you okay Dad?" Claire looked him over carefully while she helped dust him off.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Noah reached out and grabbed his daughter's narrow shoulders. "We have a lot to talk about, but it sure is good to see you, Claire-bear."

Claire's eyes filled and she reached up to hug her father. Sylar watched, a pensive expression on his face. He had to wonder what would he have been if his father had loved him the way Noah loved Claire. He pivoted quickly and turned back to his trench so that no one could see his face. The others filled Noah in on what they had been doing over the past hours before Angela pointedly handed him a shovel. He glanced from Sylar to her with a 'we'll talk about this later' look, then hefted the shovel and looked for a likely patch of ground.

Angela Petrelli stood silently over them as they dug, watching with dull horror as skeleton after skeleton was unearthed, the skulls glowing in the headlights of the gathered vehicles. When not watching their efforts Angela gazed around at the bleached buildings, her eyes sad and many years away.


	14. Chapter 14: 1961, Part One

Chapter 14: 1961, Part One

"This is just wrong," Peter said, lifting a child's baseball glove from the grave and holding it up to the morning sunshine. "Digging up these graves. Why is she making us do this?"

Nathan, handling his shovel in a grave some ways off said, "Mom has her reasons Pete, she'll share when she's ready. Give her time"

"Oh yeah? Even about him?" Peter shot back, pointing at Sylar.

Sylar's night had been far more productive and much less dirty. His trench revealed that the individual graves dug by Claire, Nathan, Noah and Peter were part of a mass grave. His efforts and theirs had exposed dozens of bodies lain shoulder to shoulder, still clad in the rotten tatters of the clothes they had died in. In this place a trench had been dug and people had been buried, then left with nothing to mark their passing. It was eerily reminiscent of the Holocaust and a shudder ran through Peter's body.

Sylar climbed down into his trench to take a better look, stepping carefully to avoid the skeletons. A broken gold watch lay atop a thin wrist bone, and he bent down to pick it up. It was a woman's Bulova, with a golden chain and rosewood face, dating from the 1950s. It had long since wound down and when he wound it he found that it was badly off, gaining a second each minute. He paused for a moment to enjoy the simple pleasure of having a watch in his hand before he opened his mind to its memories.

**May 1961**

_There were gunshots, and a many people were running and screaming. A black haired woman with a Bulova watch on her wrist was pulling a small boy along behind her. The man next to her screamed and fell as a bullet caught him in the back, and the woman shrieked and pulled to her left. Suddenly she fell as the boy she was dragging became dead weight, and looked back to see a growing pool of blood under his crumpled form. _

_ As she looked down at her dead son her eyes lit and then became balls of fire, flames curling up from them to burn the ends of her hair. She turned to see a soldier advancing on her, the barrel of his rifle still smoking. A stream of fire arced out from her eyes to the soldier, causing him to erupt into flames and run screaming in circles. She smiled and looked for the next soldier when a bullet slammed into her chest. She looked down and touched the blood before she was hit again, then fell._

"This woman had abilities! Did all of them?" Sylar tucked the watch into his pocket., then climbed out of the grave and strode towards Angela. Claire jumped out of the grave she had been excavating and blocked his path to her grandmother, warding him off. Sylar looked at Claire patronizingly, allowing himself to give her one telekinetic shove to remind her how feeble a defence she provided. Angela's eyes were red and worn, and she looked older than Peter had ever seen her.

"What are we doing here Mom?" Peter walked to stand at his mother's shoulder and look down into her weary face. "You said we came here to find your sister. We didn't know you _had_ a sister. Look, we need some answers. Mom, what happened out here?"

"My sister, my parents, they all died here. If we don't come together, if we don't settle our differences, I'm afraid history is going to repeat itself." She took a deep breath and looked around again at the buildings, then shook herself. She straightened her bun and a little of her sharpness reasserted itself. "Let's go inside."

They followed Angela into one of the derelict buildings. Angela walked to a window and stared up at the sky, her back to them.

"1961 was a different time. Kennedy was President, we were all patriots. When the government found out about us, they rounded us up and brought us here. Me, my parents, my sister, and my brother."

She turned back toward the group, her eyes lingering on each of their faces. "Angela, Alice, and Samson Gray."

Sylar leaped away from the wall he had been lounging on toward Angela, and grabbed her by her shoulders before anyone could intervene.

"Say that again! Say it clearly so I can tell if you're lying!"

"Your father was my brother. You are my nephew."

Sylar waited for his ability to tell him Angela was lying. When the tingle didn't come, when he knew it was true, he reeled away from her.

"Oh my God, it's true isn't it," Claire breathed. Peter, Nathan and Noah looked sharply at her, but her eyes were on Sylar.

Sylar stumbled backwards until he reached the wall, then slid down against it. He closed his eyes and slammed the back of his head against the rough wood, then again and again. Finally he dropped his head back against the wall limply and started laughing, the sound a confusing medley of anger, hope and hysteria.

"Guess I'm back in the family."

"What the hell is this, Mom?" Peter exploded, "Why now, why not just tell him the truth back at Primatech?"

"I have never wanted you to know about my brother, and I have not spoken of him for almost 20 years." She turned to Sylar who was still sitting against the wall with his knees up. "I almost told you that night at Primatech, do you remember?"

"Yes, and as I recall you were interrupted by a cheerleader driving a six inch shard of glass into the back of my head."

"Well deserved, I might add," Claire shot back.

Sylar's eye twitched, and he pulled himself up. "Tell us the rest, Angela. What happened out here?" His need for answers brought the dark growl of the Hunger into his voice, causing Angela's sons to step between them protectively. She was unperturbed, and turned back out the window and began to speak.

** February 1961**

_As Angela and Alice began settling into their new beds in the girls' cabin, they heard a tap at the door. Angela looked up to see her brother flanked by three young men. There was a weaselly looking boy with platinum blonde hair, as well as a nondescript boy with thick glasses. Angela's attention was immediately fixed on the extraordinarily handsome black boy standing beside Samson. _

_ "Hi girls, these are the guys in my cabin." Samson said jauntily, waving grandly at his new friends._

_ The good looking boy walked past him, his eyes on Angela. "I see you got the milk and cookies. We wanted to give you the official welcome." _

_ "Welcome to Crapola Sands" The blonde boy spoke with an English accent and a dramatic lift to his voice._

_ "This is Charles Deveaux, the guy with the funny accent is Daniel Lindermann, and the guy with the glasses is Bobby Bishop." Samson gestured to each in turn before wandering over to plop himself down on the bed beside Alice. She giggled and Samson tweaked her nose, then looked up to be met by his younger sister's disapproving eyes._

_ "Samson, you know that boys are not allowed in the girls' dorm!"_

_ "Well yeah, but Charles over here wanted to tell you how beautiful you were." Samson chortled along with Bobby and Daniel. "I had to get him over here so he could get a better look, obviously his eyes were deceiving him."_

_ Charles was not embarrassed by this and he kept his eyes locked with hers. "What, you don't think she's beautiful?" Angela broke his gaze and looked around the room desperately, her cheeks a bright red. She had never been called beautiful by a boy before._

_ "We just wanted to say hi," Charles continued, then tipped his head toward the door. Samson stood and followed the other boys outside, there was no doubt about who was already the leader of this little pack. Charles followed them, looking over his shoulder at Angela all the way out the door._

_ Angela turned around and walked towards their beds, her colour still high and a smile on her lips. Alice had saddened upon watching her big brother leave the room, and her brow drew forward petulantly._

_ "I don't like this. Our whole family separated like this? How come we can't all stay with Mom and Dad?"_

_ "We already talked about this. It's gonna be fun, just like camp!" Angela was not sure who she was trying to convince, but her attempt clearly failed with Alice. _

_ "Come on!" she continued with false brightness. "Let's get you unpacked."_

"What happened here?" Claire spoke softly into the quiet the story left.

Angela shook her head, turning back from the window for the first time since she had begun to speak. "I don't know. Samson and I were lucky, we survived. But Alice, our entire family...didn't."

"I know what happened. They were all shot to death, then buried in that hole out there." Sylar also spoke quietly, his air of deadly menace eroded by the impact of her tale. _Family,_ he thought, _I have family. _He didn't know what to do with this knowledge, but the words kept spinning through his mind.

"But that leaves more questions, Mom. Why did we have to come here to learn this? Why are we digging up these bodies?" Peter was not willing to soften his tone. He was so tired of his mother's lies, the unending web of deceit.

"I've been dreaming about my sister." Angela, turned all this time toward the window, finally turned to fix Peter with her eyes. "Alive. That doesn't make sense, but my dreams often don't, they're open to interpretation. They - they're confusing, but I think I have to see her for myself. I have to find her body, find a piece of her clothing, something, anything to give her a proper burial."

"So why him?" Nathan gestured at Sylar You've kept him – and us - in the dark about this our whole lives, why suddenly drag us out here?"

"I have dreamed of more than Alice. My dreams show me darkness and death, and as always Sylar is in the centre of them. In my dreams, if I didn't bring him here, if I didn't tell all of you the truth, the tragedy of this place would be repeated."

Sylar thought of his plans to use Danko and the American taxpayer to build death camps like Coyote Sands all over the country. In one stroke he would gain all the abilities he wanted and then exterminate his competition. The plan he'd crafted on that long drive from his father's house to D.C. made less sense now. He reached into his pocket to touch the watch in his pocket, seeing again a dead mother who'd died trying to avenge her murdered son. Much less sense.

"You should have told us about this place, that you had a sister and a brother. That Sylar is our cousin" Peter stalked around the room, his indignation making it impossible for him to stand still. Family meant everything to Peter, and his mother kept jerking him around with it like a dog on a chain.

"I didn't want you to know the pain! A mother is allowed to do that, I'm allowed to protect you!"

Nathan walked towards his mothers, making soothing gestures. "You're absolutely allowed to do that, Ma."

Angela's eyes remained locked on her youngest son who continued to pace around, shaking his head in irritation. "It's my nightmare Peter, I never wanted you to know what I suffered. I tried to forget. We made everyone forget."

"Who is we?" Claire asked.

"How do you think the Company was formed? It started here, with a vow to never let this happen again. We destroyed files, erased memories, anything to keep our existence secret. And it worked, for almost fifty years."

Noah stepped out of the shadows for the first time since Angela had begun speaking, walking to stand shoulder to shoulder with his daughter.

"Noah and I," Angela nodded at him, and he returned it with his enigmatic smile, "have tried to fix this current situation situation but Mr. Danko has proved resourceful.

"So that's what you were trying to do," Claire said, glancing sidelong up at her father.

"Yes."

"But you blew it," Sylar cut in, and Noah cast him a deadly look. "Danko is more resourceful than you think. He was working with me in D.C. to create a Coyote Sands in every state. Your tax payers dollars at work."

"That reminds me, why in the world would you be _helping_ Danko?" Noah rounded on Sylar, hand drifting inside his coat.

"That's why it is so important to put our secret back, so we can all stop running and return to our lives." Angela interrupted impatiently. "It's time to go back to the old methods."

"You mean erasing people's memories and killing people," Claire said baldly.

"It's a necessary evil."

"I'm sorry about what happened here," Peter broke in, patience expended. "But it doesn't give you the right to do the things that you've done, and it still doesn't."

"We need you, Peter. I need you," Angela looked at her youngest son over the shoulders of her oldest, her eyes desperate.

"That Company tore this family apart."

Peter looked at Sylar, remembering when they'd been brothers. How much would be different if Angela had told the truth then? Peter was not the only one whose need for family was abused by Angela to serve her own purposes, and he knew it.

"I'm not going to be a part of it." Peter walked up to Nathan to take his ability, then out the door and into the sky.

"Peter!" His mother called after him.

"I'll get him," Nathan said, then zipped up his jacket and followed Peter into the blue.


	15. Chapter 15: 1961, Part Two

Chapter 15: 1961, Part Two

**March 1961**

_Angela's nightmare pulled her gasping from sleep, blinking in the light of the camp lights shining through her window. Like a prison, Coyote Sands was never dark. She felt claustrophobic, so she drew her robe around her and walked into the night air._

_ "You had a nightmare," said a deep voice, and she startled, looking around. Charles, her brother and the other two boys walked into the light._

_ "What's it to you," she snapped irritably. The dreams had become more intense and frightening in recent days, and her sleep had been broken at best._

_ "Your brother told me about how your nightmares come true. Look, you're not the only one whose realized that something strange is happening to them." _

_ "I don't know what you're talking about," she hedged, shooting a vicious glare at her idiot younger brother with the loose lips._

_ "Show her, Samson."_

_ Samson flicked his glance between Charles and Angela, then nodded tightly and stepped slightly away from the group. He turned to stare steadily at Bobby with his hand raised, and she heard a strange whistling sound. Bobby's eyes crossed and he fell heavily to the ground, prompting a quiet snicker from Lindermann._

_ Angela gasped and ran to Samson, taking his hands in hers. "When did you find out you could do that!" she whispered heatedly, looking up and down the path to see if there had been anyone watching._

_ "Uh, I started feeling strange and I...I just figured out how to do it." He would not meet her eyes as he spoke, and she tightened her grip on his hands. When her dreams had started to come true, she had been scared and ashamed too._

_ After a moment, Bobby came to with a groan. "Ah geez Samson, I hit my head on a rock! Look, it's bleeding!" Bobby brought his hand around, showing the blood. _

_ "Try not to be such a baby, you silly bugger," Lindermann said as he bent down beside his friend, laying his hands on either side of Bobby's head. He closed his eyes and concentrated briefly, and after a moment Bobby sighed in relief and stood up easily._

_ "What did you do?"_

_ Lindermann smiled smugly and looked her up and down. "How'd a pretty skirty like you get a scar like that?" _

_ "Bike accident, why?"_

_ For answer he walked over to her and knelt down, then touched his cool hand to her shin. She felt heat radiating from his hands spreading along the length of the terrible scar left by her bike chain. When she looked down, the scar had disappeared. Lindermann smirked at her and swaggered back to his friends._

_ "This place is one big science experiment, and we're the rats." Charles' deep voice rang with authority._

_ "You're wrong. They're going to help us."_

_ "She's right, we're freaks," her brother said, and a dark shadow crossed his face. "They're gonna make us normal."_

_ "And you're blind," Charles rebutted, "Why do you think they have armed guards?"_

_ "We've done nothing wrong," Angela breathed, assuring herself as much as Charles. "We're not communists. Our Dad said we can trust them." Angela looked for confirmation from her brother who nodded firmly._

_ "This has happened before! Nazis with the Jews, America did it too, with the Japs."_

_ "This is different, we're different!"_

_ Charles licked his lips and looked around, then dropped his voice to ask,"What was your nightmare?" _

_ "My dreams are confusing, they're not always right." _

_ "You have to stop being afraid." Charles' dark eyes were steady on hers, and she sought reassurance from them. _

_ "That doctor. Suresh." Her voice was very low and trembled slightly. She had never spoken of her dreams outside of her family before, it was hard to start now. "Don't trust him."_

_ All the teenagers jumped as Alice suddenly opened the door of the cabin and looked sharply at her siblings. "What are you talking about?"_

_ "Nothing, baby sister." Samson smiled winningly and bounded up the steps to the door to tug at her ponytail._

_ "We're all going back to sleep." Angela shot her brother a pointed look, who exchanged glances with Charles then retreated off towards their bunk._

Angela stood in the courtyard, staring up at the sky where her two sons had disappeared when Claire turned to her father.

"Can I have some alone time with my grandmother please?"

Her father's expression suggested that he was not so happy about the prospect of spending alone time with Sylar_._

_ "_Of course, Claire-bear," Sylar mocked in a sugary voice as he sauntered away. Claire and Noah both glared at his back before Claire reached up to kiss her father's cheek. He took that as the dismissal it was and followed Sylar. He had some questions he wanted to ask the man anyhow.

Sylar headed for the Jeep and pulled a bottle of water from the case in the hatch. He twisted off the cap and settled to lean against the side of the car, gimlet eyes fixed on Noah.

Noah Bennet hated Sylar with a passion that was almost holy, and the fact that this psychopath had been alone with his daughter for days had tortured him. Nevertheless, he put his game face on and kept it there. Sylar had an uncanny ability to break Noah's aplomb, and he knew that if Sylar provoked a reaction out of him he gained the advantage.

"What did you do to my daughter, Sylar?"

Sylar made a show of finishing his bottle and wiping the water from his bristly chin. "Why Noah, why would you think I would do anything to your precious Claire?"

Noah's jaw clenched, but his tone remained steady. "You took her from that plane and held her hostage for days, I'm asking you why."

"Oh, you've got it so wrong. Claire made a deal with me, Noah. She comes with me to find my father, I go with her to shut down you and – what did she call him? Oh yes, Senator Flyboy's operation."

"But you were lying about that."

Sylar shrugged eloquently and smirked. "You got me."

Before Noah could respond, a storm set in from nowhere. In the span of three heartbeats the wind drove in, and the entire camp was enveloped by a vicious windstorm. The blowing sand blinded and he Noah staggered through the storm screaming for his daughter.

Sylar created a shield for himself and took off in another direction. He didn't call for her because he knew it was useless and that she couldn't hear him, but he wanted to. She couldn't be harmed, but he wanted to find her and make sure she was safe. _Foolishness_, he thought, and kept looking.

As abruptly as the wind came, it left. Sylar found himself standing beside on of the buildings surrounding the courtyard. Claire was standing in the centre of the courtyard, turning a slow circle. The relief he felt upon seeing her was almost dizzying, and he put his hand against the wall to steady himself. He watched her hair reflect the sun and wondered what was happening to him.

Suddenly the Petrelli brothers dropped in from the sky, flanking Claire.

"You okay?" Nathan asked, brushing some sand from her cheek.

"What is it?" Peter asked upon seeing her expression.

"Your Mom. She's gone."

"Gone where?" Sylar's deep voice startled Claire, and she spun to face him.

"If I knew that, she wouldn't be gone."

"We have to look for her," Peter said, "split up."

They turned and started off in different directions, losing sight of one another quickly in the maze of camp buildings. After several minutes of fruitless searching, Sylar saw Noah and Mohinder Suresh walk out of one of the buildings.

"Well, well. Hello, Dr. Suresh."

Mohinder's face tightened with anger, but Noah caught his arm before he could charge.

"It's okay. Kind of. He's with us. Kind of. Turns out he's Angela Petrelli's nephew."

"What?" Mohinder's voice rose in disbelief.

"Did you find Claire?"

"Yes, but we have another problem. My darling Auntie disappeared during that storm. Peter and Nathan came back, and they and Claire are looking for her." Sylar's tone was characteristically insouciant, but also false. He was concerned about Angela, much to his dismay. Caring for her back in Primatech had blown up savagely in his face, but here he was worried that she was in danger. _Family._ It changed everything.

For some time Coyote Sands, so long silent, rang with shouts. They met back in the courtyard, Mohinder, Noah and Sylar arrived first. Claire, Nathan and Peter funneled in from around the buildings. Peter did a double take as he saw Mohinder.

"Mohinder! What the hell are you doing here?" Peter reached forward to shake his friend's hand.

As he returned the handshake Mohinder said, "It's good to see you too Peter, though I wish the circumstances could be different."

"Look, I'd love to talk, but I have to find my mother first. Any sign of her?"

"No, nothing." Sylar reported.

"Let's split up, we'll cover more ground that way."

As Peter began to walk away, Noah called after him, "No one should be alone!"

Everyone looked at Sylar, who smiled at their discomfort. Nathan turned to Mohinder. "Suresh, will you go with Peter? Take Sylar with you."

"Oh, lovely," Mohinder moaned.

"Oh come on Mohinder, it'll be just like old times!" Sylar followed behind Peter's already retreating back, leaving Mohinder to glare furiously at his back before he followed along.


	16. Chapter 16: Sister Lightning

Chapter 16: Sister Lightning

Peter, Mohinder and Sylar came to a large cabin which looked as if it had once been a dorm. The large one room space was filled with ancient bunk beds, tatters of mattresses still clinging to their rusty frames. The wind blowing through the empty windows blew abandoned belongings around the floor.

The fading light reflected off something placed on a dresser before the window. Sylar approached it and saw that it was an old buck knife in a faded and cracked leather sheath. He picked the knife up, and pulled it from its sheath. The blade itself had been protected from the wind and weather, and as Sylar dragged his thumb across it he found it was still sharp. He closed his eyes and brought his psychometric ability to bear on the knife, fearing what he would see.

**March, 1961**

_A young man stood over a body, blood running black off of the buck knife in his hand. The lamp post above the pair shone a glaring spotlight down on them, and the young man stared into it, as if hoping it would blind him._

_ The body he stood over had been a girl, perhaps fifteen years old. Her face, what was visible under the blood, was frozen in pain and fear. The top of her head had been cut off, and her brain lay a little distance away from it as if it were a boiled egg scooped from its shell. The blood on the hands of the boy left no doubt as to who had handled the brain._

_ A noise from behind him startled him badly, and he whirled to see what it was. A rabbit had ventured out from beneath one of the buildings to munch on some weeds growing beside a stair. The young man stared at it for a moment, eyes wild. Then he raised his hand and pursed his lips, creating a low echoing whisper. The rabbit froze, barely breathing. He stood staring at the rabbit and a frightening expression of satisfaction crossed his face. _

_ Another sound rang out, this time the questioning voice of one of the guards. He looked one more time at the face of his victim._

_ "I'm sorry," he said, then turned to run away into the night. _

Peter had been watching Sylar since he picked up the knife. Peter grabbed Mohinder's arm as the scientist started to head towards Sylar, thinking he meant threaten them with it.

Peter shook his head and spoke in a low voice. "He's using that ability he has to learn about objects by touching them."

Sylar opened his eyes with a gasp, then looked around as if he couldn't remember where he had been.

"What is it? What did you see?" Peter asked.

Sylar's eyes focused on Peter. "I saw my father," he said flatly, holding the knife up to the light. "He killed someone with this knife. A teenaged girl."

"That sounds familiar," Mohinder snapped. "Like father like son."

"I am nothing like him!" Sylar shouted, and threw the knife past Mohinder's ear into the beam behind him.

Peter's head was cocked to the side as he regarded Sylar's obvious distress. His empathic ability was not just for obtaining the abilities of others, it gave him insight into the emotional state of the people around him. Sylar had changed since he'd first seen him in that hotel parking lot. The brittle smugness that had encased him then had eroded away in the winds of Coyote Sands.

"Look, let's just keep searching." Peter said finally, and turned to leave.

The next building they searched was even more bedraggled than the dorm. The walls were starting to succumb to the force of the winds, and great holes shone sunlight onto the floor. Papers, broken tables and desks were strewn about.

"No sign of her. Do you really think her sister survived this?" Mohinder asked Peter.

"I don't know," Peter replied with an exhausted shrug. He walked around the space, then jolted to a stop as he felt a hard object break under his boot with a crunch. He looked down to see an old-fashioned medical syringe and crouched to pick it up.

"What was this place?"

"It's where he experimented on them." Mohinder threw him a small glass vial that had somehow survived the years. "I guess we're destined to repeat our parents' mistakes."

Sylar remembered watching his mother's blood splatter against the back window of his father's car, her boneless collapse when she was kicked out the passenger door. His lips tightened as he looked around the broken laboratory. If Mohinder spoke the truth, he was destined to become either a monster or a victim.

"How do you mean?" Peter asked.

"I mean I am my father's son. Experimenting on human guinea pigs."

"Why?"

"Well, for science. For self interest."

"You're being too hard on yourself, Mohinder. We started this a long time ago, you and me. I know you, you're a good person."

"Good intentions only go so far, Peter. I am weak, I am corruptible, selfish -"

"We're all selfish," Peter interrupted. "My brother has proven that point, time and time again. Look, I know what it's like to have parents who are...less than. My mother brought us here because she wanted to start a new Company. She thinks that's the only way to keep this from happening again. But that first Company she started was corrupt."

"Yes, but why? I mean, was it surviving this? This has to come with fear and pain and anger. Maybe that's why you can get it right! Because you never knew this pain. I have to believe that there is hope for redemption."

Sylar listened to Peter and Mohinder as he wandered about touching the various objects in the room. They were filled with a dizzying combination of cold interest from the doctor mixed with the fear and pain of his subjects.

"Even me, Dr. Suresh? Do I have a hope for redemption?" Sylar's voice lacked its customary mocking tone and sounded almost melancholy.

Mohinder turned to look at the man who had murdered his father. He'd watched him do it in a dream, pounding his father's head against the window of his cab. He began to retort angrily before he remembered Maya's pale face, surrounded by his web and attached to a wall in his lab.

"I don't know. Redemption is something you have to want, and earn. Do you?"

Sylar thought of his mother's horrified face as she looked down at the scissors penetrating her chest. Sometimes it got mixed with the faces of all the others who had died by his hand.

"Maybe." Mohinder had expected one of Sylar's jabs, and was surprised at his quiet response. "But how much harm can you be forgiven for?"

Mohinder and Peter had no answer for that. After a few moments of silence Peter turned to the door, and Mohinder and Sylar again followed him.

***

Noah, Nathan and Claire covered the other half of the compound on their search. All they found were broken, empty buildings that all looked the same. No sign of Angela, no sign of anyone having lived here for fifty years. They searched in tense silence, none of them sure of how to break it.

They entered a building that had once been a girls' dorm, and Noah finally gathered himself up to speak.

"Are you and Peter going to be all right?"

"I don't know. He blames me for everything. I mean, we're here with Sylar, for God's sake, but he's more angry with me than with him."

Noah nodded, he had noticed the same thing. "Well, he might not be all wrong. You and I have made a mess of things."

Nathan's face was stripped of its confidence, and his eyes were thoughtful and sad. "Yes, we did."

"What was the last book you read?" Claire's voice startled them and they looked over to see her walking toward them, dust jacket of _Alice in Wonderland_ in hand. "Because I can't remember. Not the last book I read, the last movie I saw. Remember movie nights? We'd rent old movies, make popcorn. When do we get to go back?"

"I don't know," Noah said hoarsely, his throat closed a little at the wistfulness in her smile. "I miss it too."

"You know, I should be a basket case. On the road for days with Sylar, coming here, digging up those graves. I should be, but I'm not. I'm just...not."

She looked up at her fathers, her eyes pensive. "I tried so hard to impress you. Both of you. Becoming an agent, making that deal with Sylar so that I could stop him from killing. Trying to use him, of all people, to save everybody." She snorted a little at her own hubris.

"What you did was very brave."

"I was an idiot! All I wanted to do was grow up."

"Honey, that's all any teenager ever wants." Nathan's voice was also husky and broken. "You can't fault yourself for that." Noah nodded in agreement, and they moved as one person toward her.

"Maybe not. There was a time when I wanted to become a doctor, a chef, a class president. Now an agent."

They both looked at this girl who had abruptly become a young woman, and neither knew what to say to her. So they took turns embracing her and continued their search.

***

Peter, Mohinder and Sylar had expanded their search outside of the compound toward a concrete structure they had spotted. As they drew closer they saw that it was an old nuclear shelter, a remnant of the Cold War. The door was open and as they approached they saw heard a low moaning sound, and suddenly the howling wind returned, and storm clouds drew in overhead. Lightning flashed all around the entrance, coming not from the sky but from the darkness inside. All three men began to run towards the open door, fighting through the wind and lightning.

"Mom?" Peter cried out as he ran down the stairs into the bunker, Mohinder and Sylar only paces behind him.

Peter pulled his mother back against the wall, and Sylar moved to stand protectively between them and Alice. He saw how her power worked, how formidable the control over weather was. He felt the Hunger pour over him, his fierce desire to have that ability for himself. He raised his hand to pin her against the wall to take it, when his father's face suddenly leapt into his vision.

_ I want that power, _the dying old man had screamed, the Hunger making him the monster Sylar knew too well. After all, he had felt it inside him every day since he had first killed to feed it. He, like his father, wanted an ability so badly that he was willing to kill a member of his own family to get it. At the thought, his will faltered and he was pushed back by the force of the wind.

"Calm down!" Mohinder shouted, trying to make his way toward Alice. It only seemed to make the old woman even more angry, and with a scream she threw a bolt of lightning at him. Mohinder crashed heavily against the wall, bundles of newspapers falling onto his unconscious body.

Alice continued to stand at the bottom of the steps, sobbing disconsolately. Angela stared at her with guilt and fear mixed evenly in her expression. She pulled free of Peter's grip and started towards her sister, but her son held her back.

"I have to talk to her!"

"She's gonna kill you!"

"Listen to him!" Sylar added, his hand held up in a shielding gesture, trying to keep off the worst of the wind. Even his telekinetic ability was straining under its force, and his face was tight with effort.

Angela pulled Peter closer so that he could hear her over the wind. "I have to talk to her." He could not argue with the desperate resolve in her eyes, and reluctantly let her go. She called out to her sister as she stepped around Sylar's tall form. A violent gust of wind broke through his shield, and almost threw her slight form to the ground. Sylar caught her before she could fall, and she smiled reassuringly into his dark eyes.

"I'll be alright."

Sylar narrowed his eyes at her, then nodded and turned again towards Alice. He concentrated more effort into his shield and prepared himself to protect Angela should things go wrong.

"Stop!" Angela shouted against the howl of the wind. "This isn't their fault! This is your family! This is my son, and Samson's son. They're your nephews, Alice. You have a family!"

Even under the circumstances Sylar felt the impact of her plea, and he met Peter's eyes. Peter nodded, acknowledging the truth in her words, and Sylar turned back to his aunts.

"They're the only ones that can make everything all right. Don't punish them for my mistakes!" Alice's head dropped, and the wind ceased. "I am so sorry," Angela whispered into the new silence. "Come on, let's get out of here. Let's go home. Say goodbye, Alice."

"No," said Alice, and her tone was flat and final. She walked up the stairs and was gone. Angela looked to Sylar who nodded and followed her up the stairs. Peter, his paramedic training kicking in, began to tend to the unconscious Mohinder, pulling the debris from his body and checking for any injuries.

Angela and Sylar walked into the last rays of the sun as it set, and Angela looked around her with heartbroken eyes. He drew close to her and raised his hand, hesitating before placing it on her shoulder. She startled at the touch, then looked up into his eyes.

When Peter came up the stairs, supporting the still dazed Mohinder, he found them standing there still, Angela's hand resting on Sylar's. Sylar had a small smile on his face that reminded Peter of the Gabriel he had met in Costa Verde when he had travelled into the future. He watched them for a little while, thinking about how fast things could change.

Mohinder groaned painfully and blinked as he recovered enough to stand under his own power. Peter patted him on the back encouragingly then started back toward the compound, Mohinder just behind him. He looked back over his shoulder to see Angela and Sylar watching him.

"Well? Are you coming Mom?" He hesitated then added, "Cuz?"

Sylar and Angela both smiled at Peter, thankful for the capacity for forgiveness in his great heart, then followed him into the twilight.


	17. Chapter 17: What Do We Do About Sylar?

Chapter 17: What Do We Do About Sylar?

"Well? What do we do about Sylar?"

Peter had asked Sylar to start a fire and take care of his mother, a fairly obvious manoeuvre to separate him from the rest of the group. Sylar knew it, but he had decided to allow it. Now Peter, Claire, Noah, Nathan and Mohinder stood in a small huddle out of earshot of the fire.

"Is killing him an option?" Noah asked dryly.

"There's only one problem with that. He can't die." Peter replied.

"He can if we get his off-switch, shoot him in just the right spot, he'll die."

"You know, I've been thinking that a bullet wouldn't actually work on us. We might get knocked out for a second, but it would just heal right away. To keep us dead you need to leave the object in there." The men all gazed at Claire with a combination of surprise and dismay.

"She's probably right, the regenerative powers they share are amazingly potent," Mohinder mused thoughtfully.

"Killing him is not an option anyway. He protected my mother in there, he deserves a chance. After all, redemption is possible." Peter looked to Mohinder, who nodded unwillingly.

"Not for him. He's a monster and he'll never change." Claire's tone was as hard as her eyes, focused on Sylar as he sat by the fire.

"Pete, this is ridiculous. What's to say this little change of heart is permanent? How could we ever trust him, he's a killer." Nathan met Claire's eyes and they nodded at one another in agreement.

"We all change, Claire, even you. Look, when I was in the future, you killed the future me, then strapped me to a table and tortured me. In that same future, Sylar called himself Gabriel and was raising a child in Costa Verde. Hiro said that in the future he went to, Sylar did what he's planning to do in our time – round up everyone with abilities and kill them. If we have the ability to help decide which way he goes, we have to try!"

His logic was dishearteningly sound, and they all looked over to Sylar. He grinned and waved, obviously amused by the little conference.

"Are we agreed then?" Peter asked. No one said anything, but their silence was an assent. "Fine, I'll talk to him."

Claire grabbed his arm before he walked toward Sylar. "No," she said, eyes again on Sylar. "I'll do it."

"Absolutely not!" Noah and Nathan barked in unison.

"I have to."

"Claire, it's too dangerous!" Noah felt his heart clench in dismay. For so long Sylar had been her worst nightmare and now she wanted to be the one to talk to him. He didn't know what it meant, but he knew he didn't like it.

"What is he going to do, kill me? He said he wouldn't even if he could. I've spent the most time with him, and I have things I need to say. It has to be me."

Without another word, she walked away from the group to stand in front of Sylar.

"We have to talk." Her face was serious and determined. He could only nod and follow her into a building on the other side of the courtyard from the campfire.

The moon was full and bright in the cloudless sky, and lit the room quite well. She walked all the way in, heading for a shaft of moonlight. Sylar found the shadows and stayed there, unwilling to let her see his face.

"Everyone wants to know what you are going to do now."

"What do you think I'll do?"

She rolled her eyes at him disgustedly. "How am I supposed to know? You're the most unpredictable person I've ever met!"

"I haven't decided yet." This was true, everything had changed and he hadn't had a chance to consider his options.

"We're not going to let you leave here and go back to work with Danko."

Sylar's eyes narrowed and his jaw twitched. "And what do you think you can do to stop me? I could kill you all right now with a thought."

"So you want to go to Danko and help him do this, make more Coyote Sands everywhere? Kill everyone with abilities? How can you stand here in this graveyard and defend that!" Claire's voice rose with indignation, and her green eyes snapped fiercely.

The fact that he couldn't only served to further ignite Sylar's temper. "I don't have to defend myself to you! Only the strongest should survive. It's the biological imperative of any species to -"

"Oh, _screw_ your biological imperative! We're talking about _people._ Don't you care about anything? How many people have you killed since you left your father's place? 10, 20? Can you even keep count anymore?"

Aggravated beyond sense he shouted, "I haven't killed anyone!"

He grimaced and he and kept his eyes on the ground. "I haven't killed anyone since then." He sounded almost reluctant to make that confession.

"You almost killed Micah!"

"But I didn't kill him! You stopped me! Just like you stopped me from killing that family, the Campbells."

He didn't realize what he was saying until it came out of his mouth, but as soon as it was said, his power latched onto it. He had been broken all this time, and now he knew how to fix it. All he needed was the right tool, and here she stood.

"Claire, you can stop me from killing!" His anger was suddenly gone, replaced by an intensity Claire didn't recognize. He drew closer to her with each word, and Claire found herself backing away from him.

"Even if you're right, what does that mean? I have to babysit you the rest of my life?"

"Think about it Claire, you can ensure that no one ever dies by my hand again. We are family, remember? Aren't families supposed to help each other? " His voice was low and persuasive, and as always he knew just the right thing to say. Claire knew too well that Sylar was like a cobra, and though she knew he would eventually strike, it was hard to resist being hypnotized by him.

"You think just because you turn out to be...what, my cousin -"

"Second cousin, actually."

"Shut up! My second cousin that I'm going to forgive you? You wouldn't be the first monster in my family. I hate you!"

His eyes widened as he felt a tingle run through his mind for the first time since she found him on that plane.

"You're lying."

"No! I will always hate you, I'll never stop trying to kill you -"

Wildfire ran through his body, and he grabbed her wrists, drawing them above her head and pushing her back against the wall. His face hovered so close to hers she could feel his breath on her cheeks.

"You're lying! I told you, I can tell."

He brought his head down and kissed her. Brody had slobbered on her, West had kissed her with all the sweet sincerity of puppy love. Sylar devoured her and demanded a response, and she could not resist him. When he felt her relax against him he released her hands and wrapped his arms around her waist to pull her up.

Eventually, time came back to her and she opened her eyes wide in shock as she realized what she was doing. In that same moment she knew what she had to do next. She pulled her arms from around his neck and put her hands on his shoulders, pushing him to arm's length. He bent down to kiss her again but she shied her head away and locked her arms, holding him at that distance but not releasing him.

"Look, we made a deal. I help you find your father, and you come with me to shut down Building 26. You broke that deal. You owe me." Her eyes were cool and firm and hit him like cold water. He backed off, giving her space to her walk away from him.

"How could you trust me?" His voice was low and uncertain.

"You kept a promise once, you didn't kill your Dad."

"Yeah, I remember that. I also remember walking out of his place and nearly killing a kid. Not exactly trust inspiring."

"Look, I don't know what happened in there, and I don't want to. You say I can stop you from killing anyone. If that's true, prove it."

_ She really is like her father, _he thought. _She always has a plan._ "Alright, fine. We'll try it your way."

She headed for the door, but paused in the entrance to look at him over her shoulder. The moonlight darkened her eyes, leaving them unreadable. Finally she turned and left, and he walked to the door, staring after her.

"He'll do it. He'll help us."

The others looked up from their tasks of gathering their things and preparing to leave. Peter paused in the act of putting out the fire to meet her eyes and nod his approval. None of the others looked at all pleased with the idea, but they knew they had no other options. Sylar could be invaluable help or an formidable enemy, and they needed all the help they could get.

When Sylar finally returned, he looked around at the still open graves. He raised his hands up, fingers splayed, then clenched his fists. The dry dust closed over the graves and hid the skeletons from sight forever. He said nothing and looked at no one as he walked over to his Benz and climbed into the driver's seat.

"Hey! We're going to get something to eat at the diner in town, meet us there, okay?" Peter called out to Sylar, who nodded, then turned on the car and drove off.

Mohinder was staring at the buildings of the compound, his eyes distant. The air of melancholy that had been with Suresh since he got to Coyote Sands had intensified. Peter walked over to him to stand shoulder to shoulder. He stood quietly with his friend for a few minutes, then turned as Noah honked the horn of his car. Nathan sat behind the wheel in the Jeep, and was also looking impatient.

"Let's get out of here," Peter said, and turned towards the cars.

"I'm not going with you, Peter."

Peter stopped midstride and turned to walk back. "Why not?"

"I'm going to stay, find out more about what my father was doing here. Get some answers perhaps. Maybe you're ready to move on, but I'm not. I'm not ready to forgive myself, not yet."

Peter felt Mohinder's certainty, and his need to work things out for himself. He nodded, and reached out his hand to shake Mohinder's, clasping it firmly before letting him go and patting him on the shoulder. Then he walked over to the cars and climbed into the passenger seat of the Jeep. The vehicles drove away, leaving Mohinder alone in the moonlight.


	18. Chapter 18: Best Laid Plans

A/N: I've had so much fun putting my little story into the established canon, but obviously that time has come to an end. I'll still be drawing elements from the third season, but there will be a lot more original content from here on. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 18: Best Laid Plans

Angela Petrelli walked out of the bathroom in the Coyote Sands diner and looked at her family. Almost 50 years ago, five young people had sat around that same table and made a decision that would permanently alter the course of their lives.

_This can never happen again._ Angela had said it then, and poured more blood and tears into making sure of that than the young girl she had been could ever have dreamed. Now she was old and tired, and it was time to pass the torch onto the next generation.

Sylar looked up and saw her, and they nodded at one another. Angela wondered what she would see of him the next time she dreamed. She had hope that he would change after everything that had happened in Coyote Sands, but she was too cynical to trust to hope. Things changed so quickly, and she had seen what the Hunger had done to his father.

Everyone at the table was busily demolishing their burgers and fries. Peter looked up and saw Angela, holding her sister's book in her hand and gazing at them. This last few days had aged his mother, and new lines were carved into her face. He was about to go to her when Nathan rose from the table and walked to her. They spoke quietly for a moment, then returned to the table. Nathan had worked a little of his magic on her, and she looked more composed than she had since she'd woken in the cathedral. When their supper had been devoured, they sat in absolute silence, six people crowded around a table too small for them. Claire and Sylar sat on each end of the table and resolutely avoided eye contact.

"Okay, please, somebody say something," Claire said eventually, and broke the tension somewhat.

"How are the fries?" Angela asked Peter, and Claire smiled. It was good to see her grandmother put aside the despair and guilt that had dominated her mood for the past few days and begin to regain her familiar prickly exterior.

"Look," Peter said, his firm voice drawing all eyes. Like the rest of them he had eaten in silence, but his expression had been thoughtful and distant. "This isn't the Company. This is a family. There is a big difference. Families have the capacity to forgive."

Nathan looked over at Sylar, and the two recognized the hope they saw in the other's eyes. "Do you mean that?" Nathan asked for both of them.

"We're stronger together than we are apart," Peter replied. _Together_, Sylar thought. It was not a word that he had been included in for a very long time.

"Just no more hunting," Peter continued. "We've gotta make our existence a secret."

"Time to put our lives back together," said Noah, turning to look at his little girl. She was not looking at him though, but at Sylar. For the first time since she had walked in to the diner to see him sitting at the table, she met eyes with him.

"I don't know if that's possible anymore," she murmured. Noah looked between Sylar and his daughter and wondered yet again what had changed between them, and what it meant.

"Alright. So what do we do now?" Claire asked, pulling her eyes away from Sylar with some effort.

"I'll go back to Washington, take ownership of my mistakes, and talk to the President." Nathan's veneer of overwhelming arrogance had been shaken by being on the run and the revelations at Coyote Sands. Nathan Petrelli could never be kept down for long though, and he straightened in his dirty jacket as if it were a tailored suit.

"And tell him what, exactly?" Noah asked. "Building 26 is a part of the Department of Homeland Security now. Members of the Joint Chiefs and the Intelligence Committees have been briefed on the existence of specials. Worse yet, Nathan and I have left, leaving Danko with an even firmer hand on the reins. We can't just make this go away."

"Yes we can." The sound of Sylar's husky voice almost startled everyone at the table and drew their eyes sharply toward him. "We just need to make Danko look fanatical and incompetent." Sylar thought of Danko and his eyebrow lifted. "That won't actually be very hard. If the government believes that he cooked up evidence in order to pursue some personal vendetta, they will close down Building 26 and disavow it. Then we take all the evidence Building 26 has, track down everyone who knows about us and make them forget we ever existed."

"Easier said than done, but it is a good plan," Nathan said reluctantly. "To make it work, we need someone inside Building 26."

"What about you, Dad? Don't you still work for Building 26?"

"After watching Nathan Petrelli fly away then leaving unannounced for days? I doubt I still have a job, and even if Danko lets me back I'll never have the access I need to get the job done."

"I'll do it."

Everyone at the table turned to look at Sylar in surprise. He only cocked his head and raised his eyebrow at them, as if he had said nothing out of the ordinary.

"What do you mean, you'll do it?" Claire asked.

"Do you see any other shapeshifters around? I can take the shape of any one of the agents to penetrate Building 26 and begin unravelling Danko's authority."

"I can take your power and do it," Peter argued, and Noah and Nathan both nodded in relief. Claire's assurance that Sylar would help was not enough for them to feel comfortable entrusting him with such an critical role.

"Peter, you and I both know that you are not cut out for life as a double agent. You are no good at being anything but yourself, whereas I am a chameleon." Peter was set aback for a moment before he nodded reluctantly. "Also, I have my psychometric ability. Danko knows that I can shapeshift, he's going to be ready for this. He'll be putting his agents through random personality tests to try to catch me out. He'll fail, naturally."

"How do you know all this? What if you're wrong?" Nathan asked incredulously. He couldn't believe they were considering going along with a plan crafted by Sylar, and he looked to Noah for support.

Noah sighed heavily as his analytical mind probed Sylar's reasoning. "He's right. His first ability is to see how things work, and I know Danko well enough to know that his paranoia is off the scale right now."

Sylar smiled and saluted Noah with his coffee cup before taking a sip.

"We have no choice but to trust him," Angela put in. She looked around at her family seated all around her, meeting eyes with each one in turn. "Gabriel is the only one who can do this."

Claire's breath caught in her throat, and she looked across the table at Sylar's face. His mouth twisted in anger for a moment, but Angela didn't back down and gazed steadily at him. Eventually he nodded at her, but only after giving everyone else at the table a deadly glare. It was very clear that only Angela would be permitted to address him by that name. Claire wondered, not for the first time, what it was about his given name that so infuriated him. His response to the question when she'd asked it on the road had been typically Sylar: mostly deflection with only enough truth in it to seem plausible.

"Look, maybe none of this will be necessary," Nathan reasoned. "Let me go to the President, I think we can set this right without any drama." Neither Sylar nor Noah looked convinced, and Claire tended towards agreeing with them. They were right so much of the time, where Nathan's tendency to make grand promises with no backing was why they were in this mess to start with.

"It can't hurt anything. Let's start heading back to D.C., and get some more information. Then we can plan our next move," Noah stated with his typical authority. It was a good plan, as so many of his plans were. Peter flagged down the waitress and they all stood and stretched wearily.

As they rose, Claire watched Sylar move to Nathan and murmur quietly in his ear. Whatever he said widened Nathan's eyes and provoked a firm head shake. Sylar spoke again, and Nathan's face settled into lines of resignation mixed with distaste. The two men walked outside together, Claire's curiousity drawing her to trail a small distance behind them.

Coyote Sands was a very small town, and by this time at night the one main street through town was empty, and there was not a soul in sight. Sylar and Nathan headed for a small park down the street from the diner, and moved behind the cover of some tall trees. When Claire arrived, she saw Nathan and Sylar speaking quietly.

"Let me see it." she heard Sylar say. Nathan looked up and flew to the treetops, turning a lazy loop around them. Sylar's eyes followed Nathan curiously, his head tilted to one side.

"What do you think about when you take off?" Sylar asked when Nathan landed.

Nathan couldn't answer for a moment, he'd never stopped to consider it before. "I don't know, I I used to be a jet pilot, and I guess I just remember the feeling."

Sylar nodded thoughtfully, then closed his eyes in concentration. After a moment, he rose shakily about a foot in the air before dropping back to the ground. He hissed in annoyance, then closed his eyes again. This time he rose three feet, then six. He smiled triumphantly and duplicated Nathan's flight around the treetops before settling lightly in front of Claire.

"You can fly now," she breathed. Her eyes were round with wonder, she'd always thought that flying was the coolest ability any of them had.

"I can fly now," he agreed.

Nathan watched them gazing at each other as if he had ceased to exist, and cleared his throat. Both of them started and looked at him in surprise. The moonlight was bright enough that Claire's deep blush was visible, and she whirled away from them. Sylar stared after her for a moment before following, leaving Nathan standing alone. He pulled himself from the earth and shot off towards Washington at top speed, cracking the sound barrier in seconds. Nathan thought about the expression on Sylar's face as he looked at Claire the whole way, hoping it didn't mean what he thought it did. _He looks like a man in love_, Nathan thought. _Does he even know he is? What does Claire feel for him? And what the hell are we going to do about it?_

When Claire returned to the restaurant she found her grandmother and father waiting for her inside the car, which was already running. Peter was gone, presumably he too had decided to fly rather than ride. She shot a look over her shoulder at Sylar where he stood on the sidewalk, then climbed in. They drove away, taillights disappearing into the distance. Sylar watched them go, toying with the Bulova watch he still carried in his pocket. He dropped the keys to the Mercedes on the pavement, profoundly grateful that he had gotten a far improved form of travel, then took off into the sky.


	19. Chapter 19: Mr Gray Goes to Washington

Chapter 19: Mr. Gray Goes to Washington

Sylar enjoyed flying. He played with it on his way to D.C.. He flew as fast as he could, watching the trees blur beneath him, and turned huge figure eights in the air. He found himself smiling and wondered at it. It felt somehow like fixing watches, joy not sullied by cruelty or hunger. Through most of Virginia he thought of Claire's face in the moonlight watching him fly.

When Sylar arrived in Washington, he hung in the air in front of the White House and considered his next move. The best way to gain access to Building 26 was to take over the identity of one of Danko's agents and penetrate the operation. The easiest way to accomplish that was to murder one of the agents. However, since killing was no longer an option in his playbook, he would have to be more ingenious.

_First things first,_ he thought, and flew over to Danko's apartment. While the man was in the shower, he riffled through the work Danko always brought home with him. Memory hits from Danko's belongings told him that the person Danko came closest to trusting was an Agent Gregory Talb.

_What to do with you, Agent Talb_?

***

Special Agent Gregory Talb was looking anxiously in his rear view mirror. He had spotted the same car behind him several times, cruising along some car lengths behind. For all appearances it was just another Ford in the crush of traffic, but Talb was experienced enough to recognize a trail when he saw one. He carefully edged around another car to catch a glimpse of the driver, and a chill ran down his spine. It was Jimmy Naccarotto, a button man for the New Jersey mob. There was only one thing a button man could be doing tailing him in Washington, and that was to put a bullet into the back of his head.

Before he transferred to Building 26, Talb had been an FBI agent in New Jersey, one of a team charged with bringing down the Risso family. He was assigned to deep cover and became Paul Greco. Over the course of almost a year he worked his way into a trusted position in the mob. His assignment was to infiltrate the family and find evidence that could be used at trial. However, something changed as the months went by. The easy money, the women, the camaraderie with the gangsters he was working with became a temptation he could not refuse. When the investigation finally resulted in a witness willing to testify in order to avoid jail time, he took advantage of the opportunity. He went to the capo he worked for, Pietro Risso, and revealed his identity as an FBI agent. He promised the murder of the witness to prove his loyalty, and he delivered on that promise. He kept his undercover assignment and delivered false intelligence to the Agency while helping his real bosses keep their business dealings far from the watchful eyes of the D.A.'s office.

Then he got reassigned to Building 26. He fought it, but his handlers in the Agency felt that he had been undercover too long and that he didn't seem to be getting any closer to the evidence they needed to present a case. He went again to Risso and informed him of the situation, told him he had no choice, and promised his undying loyalty. As he told the man, he had as much to lose if his activities were revealed as anyone in the mafia. Risso had seemed to accept this at the time, but obviously his feelings had changed. If Naccarotto hadn't been sloppy enough to be spotted, Talb would have been mysteriously disappeared and ended up feeding the fish in the Potomac.

Talb reached over and slid the unmarked gun in his glove compartment onto his lap as he turned into the parking garage of his apartment building. Operating on the assumption that Naccarotto had not noticed that he'd been spotted, he slid out of his car and crouched behind the next one. A moment later, the Ford pulled into the garage and parked. The button man slid out of the car, his jacket pulling close enough against his side to reveal the holster there. As he headed toward the stair case leading upstairs, Talb jumped out from behind the car and put his gun to the back of Naccarotto's head.

"What are you doing here, Jimmy?"

Naccarotto had frozen at the touch of the barrel against his nape, putting his hands into the air.

"Turn around and take the gun out of your holster and throw it on the ground or my finger is going to twitch and your brains are going to end up all over the pavement."

Jimmy nodded slowly and turned, his hands still in the air. He reached into his jacket and pulled the gun out, making sure that Talb could see his hands the whole time. The gun made a metallic thump when it landed that rang out through the parkade.

"Come on, Paulie, take it easy, let's just talk." Talb's eye twitched at the use of his undercover name and he scanned the parking garage once again to confirm they were alone.

"I'll ask you one more time. What are you doing here?"

"I think you know exactly what I'm doing here, Paulie."

"I told Risso that I wouldn't give him up! I'll spend the rest of my life in jail if anybody ever found out, lose everything, just like any of you!"

"Okay, Paulie, if you say so. Let's just go back to Mr. Risso and explain that to him. I'm sure we can work this out." Naccarotto was obviously stalling. If Risso had sent his most trusted button man to take Talb out, he wasn't in the mood for negotiations.

"I'm sorry Jimmy, I really am. But I'm not going to let you kill me, and I'm not going to jail." Naccarotto's eyes widened and he raised his hand to fend Talb off. The gunshot echoed like thunder in the parking garage.

Talb looked down at Naccarotto's motionless body as he wiped his gun clean. He popped open his trunk and pulled the button man's body into the trunk, cursing the man's love of pasta all the while. He dropped the gun and his keys on the man's body, then headed for his apartment. He always kept a large supply of cash he'd earned in the mob and several sets of fake identities in a shoebox under his bed. He'd once been a boyscout, and he still thought that it was always important to be prepared. He walked out of his apartment and his life, thinking that Barbados was probably beautiful this time of year.

Back in the parkade, the trunk of Talb's car flew open with enough force to break the hinges, and Jimmy Naccarotto climbed out. He looked disgustedly at the blood stain on his shirt, then his figure rippled and lost definition. A moment later Sylar stood in his place.

"Well, I think that went very well." Sylar murmured.

He'd discovered Talb's secret while he was going through the man's apartment. It had been simple to find to find Talb's contacts in Jersey from the memories of his belongings. Masquerading as a gorgeous blonde waitress in Naccarotto's favourite strip club had given him the DNA he needed to shapeshift. He had secured his infiltration of Building 26, and he would not have to suffer a diatribe from Claire for killing someone. _Win-win_, he thought as he headed for Talb's apartment.

***

"Senator Petrelli?"

"Yes?" Nathan turned from staring out his window to his aide, trying to control his anger enough to not snap the word. Frustration oozed from his every pore. The meeting with the President had not gone as well as he had wanted.

"There's an agent here, he says he's from Building 26? He'd like to speak with you."

"Oh, that's just great," Nathan hissed as he spun in a small circle, then paced restlessly around his desk

"Shall I tell him you're unavailable?"

"No," Nathan breathed out his irritation, and composed himself with great effort. "Just send him in."

His aide bobbed her head and pulled her head back out the door.

"Senator Petrelli?" A pale man with blue eyes and short brown hair entered the office, holding up a badge in a black leather case. "I'm Special Agent Gregory Talb, from Building 26. I just wanted to ask you a few questions, if I could."

Nathan straightened his shoulders, adjusted his coat, and lifted his chin. "What can I do for you, Agent Talb?"

"After your father was murdered you just followed along in lockstep, trying to make his dream a reality. You even went so far as to betray your family. I mean, what is it about your father's total failure that you are unable to grasp?"

"How do you know that?" Nathan's voice became a growl as he advanced upon the agent. "Who do you think you are?"

Sylar shifted out of Talb's form, grinning at the combination of surprise and horror on Petrelli's face. "Just an interested observer."

"Listen, you psychopath-"

Nathan was interrupted by a quiet knock on his window. He spun away from Sylar with a _we'll_ _finish this later_ expression, and opened the window.

"Pete, come on, it's broad daylight! You can't be flying around here! What if someone saw you?"

Peter flashed his one-sided grin and gave his brother a quick hug. "I was careful, no one saw me. Are Mom, Noah and Claire in town yet?" Peter nodded a greeting to Sylar.

"Yes, they've had a rest at Noah's apartment and they're on their way now."

On cue, Nathan's aide knocked again on his door. Peter ducked behind the desk while Sylar quickly shifted back to Talb.

"Senator, sorry to disturb you again, but your mother is here with some guests."

"Thank you, Lydia. Please show them in."

Angela was ushered in, followed by Noah and Claire. Noah had been forced to tell his daughter that her mother and he had separated while she was gone, and her face betrayed her confusion and sadness, levied by a healthy dose of frustration. It was a reminder that her father's incessant lies and duplicity constantly tore holes in his relationship with his family.

"Oh, I'm sorry Nathan, I didn't realize you had a guest already," Angela said as she entered, eyeing Agent Talb.

"Actually he has a couple," Peter said as he rose from behind the desk.

Noah looked searchingly at Nathan's guest. He recognized Talb from Building 26 but could think of no earthly reason why the agent should be here. "Is that you, Sylar?"

"Very good, Noah. Sharp as always," Sylar answered condescendingly, then rippled as he shifted back to his own visage. Claire gasped, but Angela looked unfazed.

"Hello, Gabriel."

"Angela. Or should I call you Auntie Angie?" Sylar taunted, turning his profile to her and looking at her sidelong.

"Angela will be fine, I think." Her voice was crisp. She had lived too long to rise to such obvious bait so easily.

"Well?" Noah asked, choosing to ignore Sylar altogether. "Did you meet with the President?"

"I pulled every favour I had, but I managed to get some face time."

"And?"

Nathan walked back around his desk and placed his hands on the surface, pressing his weight into them.

"You were right. He won't go for it. Danko has him totally convinced that we're on the brink of a national emergency."

This news was received in troubled silence. No one had really expected any different, but it made their task that much more daunting.

"There is a bright side," Nathan continued. "Kind of. There was some kind of security breach at Building 26 yesterday, and all the detainees escaped."

"How?" Noah questioned.

"No one knows. At any rate, the President has ordered that Danko cease the detainment of prisoners unless they are deemed an imminent danger. They want to do more research, find out how to better contain us. The wholesale capture of people with abilities is no longer mandated. So, none of us has to worry about being arrested by Danko."

"Well that's a relief anyhow," Peter said. "It buys us more time to shut down Building 26 and start putting the Company back together. How'd you do, Sylar?"

"I'd like to introduce you all to Gregory Talb, Danko's trusted lieutenant and loyal Building 26 agent." Sylar again shifted into Talb's shape and dropped a small bow before returning to his own. "Agent Talb had a particularly strange day yesterday. While he was at Building 26 the whole staff was found somehow laying on the stretchers the specials had been on, and all of the prisoners escaped. Talb and everyone else had no idea how they had been placed there. One minute they were going about their duties, then _poof_, they woke up on stretchers."

"Hiro!" Peter exclaimed

Sylar nodded in agreement. "There's no one else who could do it."

"So where did Agent Talb go? Did you kill him?" Claire's tone was apprehensive and suspicious. Based on her experiences with him, she understandably doubted his ability to accomplish a mission without murder.

"No." He raised an eyebrow in amusement at Claire's open relief. "Agent Talb turns out to have been a corrupt agent, funnelling information to the mob. As far as he knows, he has killed an assassin the mob sent after him. Since he believes he's facing jail or death, he's on the run and will keep running for a long time."

"Not bad," Noah grumbled despite himself. Sylar performed a crisp salute and smiled at Noah's snarl. "Okay, lets hear from you, Peter. What have you been up to?"

"Well, I thought I'd start by trying to find our friends, Matt, Mohinder, Hiro and Ando. Since it was closest, I went back to find Mohinder, he'd said he was staying at Coyote Sands for a while. Only there was no sign of him, and I found this." Peter displayed the distinctive taser dart that agents of Building 26 used to debilitate people with abilities.

"He must have been with the rest of the specials who escaped from Building 26 yesterday," Sylar said. "Could he be with Nakamura and that little guy who follows him around?"

"Ando. And yes, he could be, but we have no way of getting in touch with them. I tried to find Matt too, so I flew to his ex-wife's place in California. He wasn't there and the house was empty. Let's hope he and his family are okay, but I have no idea where he is."

The computer on Nathan's desk beeped sharply, and the screensaver was replaced by a large black text box which read:

**I CAN HELP YOU FIND THEM.**

"Rebel? Is that you?" Peter peered into the camera at the top of the monitor. Another box opened up on the monitor and showed a video of a pre-teen with curly black hair waving into the camera.

"Micah!" Claire exclaimed, and the boy smiled incandescently at her.

"Hi, Claire, it's good to see you again! I know what you're doing, and I think I can help."

"I'm sure you can, Micah." Claire smiled at the boy, she'd felt an immediate bond with him and she was glad to see he was all right. "Where are they?"

"Hiro, Ando and Dr. Suresh are at the hospital. Something's wrong with Hiro, the machines say he's very sick. Matt is on his way to Washington right now, he's taking the bus." Micah's eyes, deep black in the poor grain of the video camera, moved to Sylar. "Why is he here?"

Sylar looked automatically to Claire, an expression near panic on his face. She thinned her lips and crossed her hands over her chest. _Apologize,_ she mouthed. Sylar cleared his throat, sliding his eyes from side to side. "I'm sorry I attacked you. I'm helping, I'm trying to do better."

Satisfied, Claire nodded. "He's going to help us take down Building 26, Micah. I think we can trust him."

"If you say so, Claire. But I think I'll stay a long way away from him."

"Fair enough," Noah commented, shooting a look at Claire. It was advice he sincerely wished she'd take.

"Alright, so now we know what the situation is, but we still need to figure out what we're going to do next," Peter said. "What do you think, Noah?"

"Look, we've got more than Building 26 to worry about now. A lot of those people who escaped yesterday were just trying to keep their heads down, live a normal life. But there are others that are very dangerous, I made sure to track them down myself. Now they're loose, and Danko has no idea how to capture them. We have to find them and contain them or they are going to cause more damage than we can dream of. Now that they've been exposed and captured already, they may decide to use their powers openly to take whatever they want."

"So what you're saying is, if we want to start the Company up again, we have to start it right now." Peter replied thoughtfully.

The light flashed off Noah's horn-rimmed glasses as he nodded.

"Okay, I'm not much good standing around here in Washington. Noah and I can go ahead and get started capturing these people and – where are we going to put them when we catch them?"

"Leave that to me." It was the first time Angela had spoken since she came into the office. She had sat in a small armchair against the wall, her sharp green eyes missing nothing.

"Sounds good, Ma. I'll stay here and keep working the President, maybe he'll listen to me," Nathan said.

"What about me?" Claire moved to the centre of the room, in front of Nathan's desk. Her back was straight and her chin up, and she looked ready for a fight.

"You, young lady, are going back to Costa Verde to stay out of danger," Noah asserted, then silently continued the thought, _and a long way away from Washington and Sylar._

"No." There was a tone of finality in her voice that set Noah aback. He had never heard her speak with such absolute conviction.

"Your mother has been worried sick! You have to go back to California and - "

"And what?" Claire interrupted impatiently. "What am I going to there? I'm a _part_ of this now."

Nathan decided to support his fellow father, and stepped around his desk to take Claire's hands. "Claire, you know that your father only wants to keep you safe."

Claire wrenched her hands roughly from Nathan's grip and spun away from him. "How many times do I have to tell you? I can't get hurt! _He_," she pointed at Sylar, "says I can never die! I'm not a child anymore, and I want to help!"

Noah looked at his daughter and for the first time he saw an adult. His throat constricted and he swallowed roughly, his face red with emotion.

"Claire, I -" he choked.

"She's right." Angela's cool voice interrupted him, and all eyes in the room were drawn to her. As always her face revealed no emotion, and her gaze was locked with Claire's.

"Angela!" Noah cried in betrayal.

"I was younger than her when we started the Company in the first place. She's old enough to make her own decisions and we all have to accept that." Angela Petrelli always sounded so _sure _about everything she said. It had led her family to chaos and pain more times than they could remember, but that certainty still swayed them.

"What can I do?" Claire said, sure that she had won. She smiled gratefully at her grandmother, who nodded back graciously.

"Excuse me," Micah put in tremulously, his voice breaking even more than usual. Clearly the idea of interrupting a family argument was not his preference. "I can help Claire find the ones no one else has found – not the Company, not Building 26. She can talk to them, make them see our point of view. If they're dangerous, she can't be hurt and I can get help to her before anything can happen."

Claire smiled triumphantly, a smile that broke as soon as Noah said, "there's no reason she can't do that from California." Before Claire could protest raised his hand to fend her off and continued, "part of the life of an agent is travel, Claire. You should know that better than anyone."

He made too much sense and Claire knew she was starting to run out of room on this argument. She looked to her grandmother for help again, but this time there was none to be found. Angela also seemed to feel that this was a good compromise.

Sylar had remained quiet and watchful since he'd delivered his report, standing against the wall near Angela. He'd been relatively uninterested in the family drama, other than a sensation of vague pleasure that it was _his_ family, until Noah told Claire that she would return to California. At that, Sylar felt a lurch in his chest at the thought she might be so far away. He had to keep reminding himself that it shouldn't matter where Claire Bennet lived, that it had no impact on him.

"No." Sylar was almost as surprised to hear himself say it as were the other occupants of the room.

Noah bristled and glared at Sylar. "You have no right no interfere! Where Claire goes and what she does has _nothing_ to do with you."

"I beg to differ. I made a deal with Claire, not any of you. If you want me on board, she stays here." He locked eyes with Claire, and his voice took on a husky pitch. "After all, she's the only one that can stop me."

Claire's eyes widened at support from this unexpected quarter, and her lips curved up into a sweet smile as she looked at Sylar. He felt it hit him like a blow, and for a moment he couldn't breathe. She'd never smiled like that at him before.

Peter didn't know exactly what Sylar meant by that, but he knew an impasse when he saw one. He'd also suffered the overly protective arms of his family for most of his life, so he found it easier to empathize with Claire than with the rest.

"Let her stay," he said. "She's only going to get into trouble anyhow, and this way we can keep an eye on her."

Claire was a little peeved at this half-hearted support, but she was willing to take what she could get. Angela also nodded, and Noah and Nathan exchanged glances.

"Fine, she can stay," Noah bit out, but before Claire could get too excited, he continued, "but under _my_ terms. You don't do anything without letting someone know where you're going."

Claire was not prepared to lose the entire argument by fighting this last condition and she nodded. She looked over at Micah's image on the computer and an idea came to her.

"There's one more thing. Micah, you're staying on your own, and it's not right. You have to come stay with me and my Dad."

Micah's eyes widened and he looked about to protest. Before he could, Noah sighed. "I guess I have to move again, we're going to need a bigger apartment."

Claire turned to Micah with a smile almost as bright as his. "Looks like you're my new roommate."

Micah's heart throbbed and a knot formed in his throat. He'd been alone a long time and it was harder than he'd ever thought it would be. "Okay, I'll come stay with you. Thank you."

"Well, I think that settles that." Angela stood and adjusted her skirt, effectively ending the meeting. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to return to New York and begin our preparations. Finding a facility to replace Primatech will not be easy, or cheap. Thankfully, Bob Bishop's ability ensured that our coffers are very deep." She shot a look at Sylar which expressed her expectation that since Sylar had killed Bob and taken his alchemical ability, he would have to take up that duty as well.

Angela walked over to her sons and kissed them both on the cheek. She gave Claire the same treatment, and then to everyone's astonishment she stretched up to kiss Sylar's. She looked up into her nephew's shocked eyes and slapped him gently, then turned and left the office. After a few moments, Claire and Peter walked out arm in arm, Sylar following after. Micah's face was replaced by an aquarium screensaver, leaving Noah and Nathan alone.

"What the hell is going on with those two?" Nathan snapped, pacing small circles behind his desk.

Noah didn't need to be told which two Nathan was talking about. The mysterious nature of Claire and Sylar's relationship had been on his mind as well. "I don't know, but I don't like it."

"Have you seen the way he looks at her? The way _she_ looks at _him_?"

"She's young and naive, and she has no idea what kind of fire she's playing with. We have to keep her away from him."

Claire's two fathers nodded in agreement before Noah walked out, leaving Nathan to stare pensively out his office window.


	20. Chapter 20: Catching Up

A/N: The island I describe in this chapter is an actual place, not a figment of my crazed imagination. Or maybe it is. I'm crazy, so I can't tell. Cheers!

Sorry for the long wait, I had a vacation and a love affair with Mass Effect 2. Your support and reviews are so appreciated!

Chapter 20: Catching Up

Sylar in Talb's form grasped the doorknob on his way into Talb's apartment after leaving Nathan's office, and remembered that he had to call his mother. He dreaded it a little, she would always tell him about relatives he'd never met and the business of her neighbors. Suddenly a vision of his mother, shock on her face and scissors protruding horribly from her chest, flashed through his memory and he pulled his hand away from the knob as if stung. The memory of a gossiping mother had been Talb's, not his. For a moment he hadn't been able to tell the difference.

As soon as he got inside, Sylar dropped Talb's form and hurried to the mirror. He probed the familiar planes of his face, looking for any sign that they had altered. When he saw only his own familiar features he breathed a sigh of relief. He tried to convince himself that the confusion was a result of handling Talb's possessions all day in order to get a sense of who the man was and what he had been up to.

Sylar shook off his unease and unpacked his groceries, then brought a small brown paper bag over to his new work area. A lamp shone down on the Bulova watch he'd taken from Coyote Sands. He reached into the bag and pulled out a variety of delicate watchmaking tools. For a time he only stared at them, arranged on the work surface in a neat row. The reminder of Gabriel Gray's life comforted and infuriated him at the same time, and the intensity of the conflicting feelings was dizzying. After taking several deep breaths, he sat down to the table and reached for a small screwdriver. Hours later he staggered to bed and dreamed of clockworks, ticking into infinity.

When Claire, Noah, and Peter arrived at Noah's apartment, they found Micah waiting outside the door. The boy carried only a backpack, and he wore the same clothes he had when she'd met him. He'd hit a growth spurt, and his wrists and ankles poked out of his shirt and pants. He smiled when he saw them, but she saw that it lacked some of the brightness she'd seen when she met him. He seemed thinner and sadder than Claire remembered him. Impulsively, Claire hugged the boy, and he returned it with a fervency atypical of proud pre-teens. When he pulled back, Claire released him and stepped in the door her father had opened, beckoning him inside. Claire introduced Micah to her uncle and father, both of whom shook his hand as respectfully as they would an adult's. Peter had been rescued from capture by Rebel on at least one occasion and he thanked Micah for that.

"How have you been, Micah? You didn't say what you needed to come here and do, how did it work out?" Claire asked. They were setting sheets on the living room couch for Micah to sleep on. The boy paused in the act of fluffing a pillow and his brows drew together in a pained expression.

"I found out people aren't always what you want them to be," he sighed, with more cynicism than his age could account for.

Noah's head turned to the side and his gaze tightened on Micah. "That reminds me. You were the one who helped Tracy Strauss escape Building 26, weren't you?"

"You mean the escape that ended with her dying to save me?" Micah's tone was frustrated and bitter. Strauss' sacrifice in the parkade had not left his mind since the moment it happened. He'd beaten on the outside of the door he'd slammed closed as he escaped the parkade until the metal got so cold it burned him. When Building 26 agents had arrived he'd slunk away and escaped into the crowd.

"Well, that has yet to be determined. Its impossible to predict what the limits of her powers are. There's a chance she survived." Noah's tone was calm and sure, he'd had experience with this ability while in the Company.

Micah's face lit up, and he moved to Noah to grab the tall man's hands. "Do you really think she could still be alive?"

"I really think so," Noah smiled.

"Micah, you should stay here with Dad while Peter and I go to the hospital to see the others. You look worn out," Claire said as they finished preparing Micah's bed. Micah looked as if he would protest for a moment, but evidently he decided she was right and gave them the hospital's address. Claire smiled reassuringly at Micah over her shoulder before the door closed between them.

Mohinder and the Japanese pair had been smart enough to not give their real names at the hospital, but Micah's information led Claire and Peter right to Hiro's room. They found Ando Masahashi and Mohinder standing over Hiro Nakamura's bed. Hiro was unconscious and his face pale and sweaty. Peter tapped gently on the door frame, causing Ando and Mohinder to hop and whirl towards the door in surprise.

"Peter!" Mohinder exclaimed, relief plain on his features. It was clear he'd been worrying that agents of Building 26 would be the ones to find them. "What in the world are you doing here? How did you find us?"

Peter grinned his one-sided smile and took Mohinder and Ando's hands in a firm handshake. "I have my ways." As he drew closer to Hiro's bed, his face became serious and concerned. He rested the back of his hand against Hiro's sweating forehead. "What happened to him?"

"He has been having nosebleeds and headaches since he got his power back," Ando replied, his face taut with worry. "Every time he used it, they got worse. After we got all the prisoners out of Building 29, he just passed out. He hasn't woken up since then."

"How did he even get his power back, Ando? Last time I saw him he didn't have it." Peter asked. The question reminded Claire that, before finding him on the prison transport plane, the last time she'd seen Hiro Nakamura was sixteen years in the past. Arthur Petrelli had stolen his powers and thrown him off the top of the Deveaux building before moving Claire and himself back to their own time. Clearly there was a story in there somewhere.

"Matt Parkman's baby is like us, special. He can make things stop and go. He touched Hiro, and his power started going again."

"But not well," Mohinder broke in. "His body is rejecting his ability, resulting in a series of small bruises all over his brain. If the swelling had gotten any worse he would have died."

"I've only met him once," Claire said as she brushed a lock of hair from Hiro's pale forehead. "I liked him."

"What are you doing here Peter?" Mohinder's face was tight with paranoia, and his gaze flicked ceaselessly about. "It's terribly dangerous, Danko could find us at anytime."

"Well, you guys threw a pretty big monkey wrench into his plans. The President has told Danko and Building 26 to hold off on arrests for the time being." Both Mohinder and Ando sagged in relief, but before they could breathe easy, Peter continued. "Danko is still in charge though. You should probably get out of town right away, but I need to talk to you about something first."

Peter pulled Suresh out of the room, leaving her alone with Hiro's friend, whose name Claire could not remember. She reached out to shake his hand and said, "Hi, I'm Claire Bennet, it's very nice to meet you."

Ando took her hand with a bright smile. "I am Ando Masahashi, and it's very nice to finally meet you too."

"Finally?"

"Hiro and I came from Japan three years ago to save the cheerleader so that we could save the world. I guess that's you."

"Thank you," Claire smiled, then sat to hold Hiro's hand. The touch woke him, and his eyes fluttered open. Ando hurriedly took the wire frame glasses from the dresser and gave them to Hiro.

When Hiro could see Claire, he smiled broadly.

"Hello cheerleader! What are you doing here?" Hiro had to pause and clear his throat, his voice was rough and husky.

"Hi Hiro," Claire smiled. "Peter and I came to see how you were doing, and to thank you for what you did in Building 26."

"Where am I?"

"Hiro, don't you remember?" Ando asked, worry staining his face. "You passed out after you rescued the prisoners from Building 26."

At that moment, Peter came back into the room, Mohinder nowhere in sight. "Hiro! You're awake! How are you feeling?"

"I will be fine," Ando asserted, chin set high. He was a terrible liar, his pallor and weakness belied his brave words

"Maybe. But Dr. Suresh says you need to rest for a while, or you'll risk having a stroke. You have to take it easy for a while. Let us handle things until you're feeling better."

"No! A true hero never runs!" Hiro's body was weak, but his heart was as strong as ever. "I must help you, Peter Petrelli."

"No, Hiro, you need to go back home and get better!"

Ando jumped in at this point and spoke quickly and emphatically in Japanese. Hiro tried to argue but his friend obviously had him surrounded.

"I will go back to Japan. When I get better, I will come back and help." Hiro's air of absolute conviction made it impossible to believe otherwise.

Peter smiled at his friend and clasped his hand. "Can't think of anybody I'd rather have on my side."

It was then that a large black nurse arrived to chase Peter and Claire from Hiro's room. After a few moment's passionate campaigning, she allowed Ando to stay and watch over his friend.

"Where's Dr. Suresh?" Claire asked as they headed towards the car.

"He's going back out to Coyote Sands. He said that right before the agents took him, he'd found, and I quote, 'some fascinating evidence of my father's research.'" Claire couldn't help but giggle at Peter's impression of the handsome Indian doctor. "Come on, it's late. Let's get you home so we can all get some sleep before everything goes crazy again."

In the afternoon of the next day, Noah mused upon Angela Petrelli. Despite knowing her for almost twenty years, she had never lost her ability to surprise him. Once again, she had pulled off the impossible and somehow obtained a 99-year lease on a tiny uninhabited island just north of New York City.

More than fifty years ago, the island had housed a huge tuberculosis sanitarium, a way to keep the sick away from the healthy and care for them as they died. When the long war with tuberculosis was finally won, the facility was abandoned and left to molder away. Huge trees sprinkled dappled light through their canopies over snaky green fingers of ivy that had taken over the walls of all the buildings on the island. This was to be the new Company headquarters. If Primatech had been too easy to find, it was time to take themselves further into hiding.

They'd spent most of the day on the island inspecting the hospital and outbuildings to see how, or if, they could be used. The shingles on the roof were all but gone, and there was no glass left in the windows, but otherwise the old building was still structurally sound. As the sun started to fade, they left their new headquarters and began heading back toward the small dock where their boat was tied up. Noah was planning the renovations that would need to be made to create a new Level 5 when his phone rang.

"Bennet here."

"This is Sylar."

Noah's head jerked in surprise, his glasses flashing reflections of dappled sunshine. "Why are you calling me?"

"Something's happened, we all need to meet as soon as possible." Sylar's voice was grave and deadly serious.

"We _are_ in New York right now, Sylar. Is this really that important?"

"No, Noah I called you because I missed you. I don't want to meet at Petrelli's office again, it's too open. Call me when you get back to your place and I'll come over there. Hurry." Then the line went dead. Noah snapped the phone shut with a little more force than was necessary, but did not otherwise break his phlegmatic demeanour.

"Who was that?" Peter asked.

"Sylar. He wants to meet in D.C. as soon as possible. Didn't say why, only that it was important."

"Pretty weird, huh."

"What's that?"

"Working with Sylar."

"Pretty weird," Noah agreed, with a profound sense of understatement. He scanned around the courtyard until he saw a dark figure a small distance away. "Ready to go, old friend?"

The Haitian rose from his crouched position in the centre of the courtyard where he'd been toying with a time-ravaged doll, left by a child gone long since. He nodded and the three men headed off.


	21. Chapter 21: Gamechanger

Chapter 21: Gamechanger

Not everyone could make it to Noah's apartment that evening. Nathan had a fundraiser he couldn't get out of and Angela had elected to stay in New York City, asking that the Haitian stay with her. Micah and Claire returned from a busy day of house hunting and clothes shopping, with great success in both, to find Peter and Noah waiting for them. All four of them were engaged in packing when a knock came at the door. Noah scanned the room and adjusted his gun by habit, then opened the door. Sylar stood outside, a stack of pizzas in hand.

"We didn't order any pizzas," Noah grumbled, then stepped aside to allow Sylar inside.

"Very funny, Bennet. Seeing as how I was engaged in a deep cover operation against an organization of fanatics bent on my capture and death, I didn't have time to grab dinner." Sylar brushed by Noah and tossed the pizzas down on the kitchen table. He opened one and demolished a slice in about three bites. Sylar's sarcastic jabs were familiar, but they lacked force, as if delivered only by habit. Sylar swallowed his pizza and took a deep breath, before turning to the group.

"Matt Parkman is dead."

The words fell on them like a weight, knocking their breath away. Claire felt her throat close up, and she shook her head for a moment to deny Sylar's announcement. Peter's face expressed the same chaos she felt. She remembered Matt's bright smile and tears started flowing down her cheeks.

"When? How?" Noah managed to choke out.

"Today. Danko killed him."

"Since when has the President mandated killing specials?"

"He hasn't. Orders now are to observe and track, not bag and tag and certainly not liquidate. Building 26 had located Parkman's bus on the way in from Los Angeles and Danko was waiting with a sniper rifle when Parkman stepped off the bus." Sylar mimed a gunshot and smiled sardonically. "I guess you could call it an extracurricular activity, Danko _really_ didn't like Matt Parkman."

"You think this is funny?" Claire grated, her face red with anger and grief. "Matt Parkman was a good man and now he's _dead_ and you think that it's a joke?"

Unease erased Sylar's smug expression, leaving only uncertainty in its wake. He turned from her and took another slice of pizza. He didn't quite slink away to lean against the counter, but it was close.

"How could you let this happen! You're supposed to be helping us protect people!" Peter stalked into the kitchen after Sylar and waved a finger in the taller man's face.

Sylar shot Peter a disgusted look, but otherwise ignored Peter's violation of his space. "He didn't announce to his agents that he was setting off to murder an unarmed man in violation of Presidential order. I only found out because I touched his jacket when he was coming back in."

Peter made a disgusted sound and withdrew, pacing the room erratically. Noah stood behind Claire, holding her tight against his chest. Whatever emotions he had felt upon learning of Matt's murder had been firmly shoved aside, and he was clearly on the job. The agent's steel blue eyes were fixed on Sylar as he waited for him to continue.

"So what is he saying about it?" Noah asked as he released Claire so that she could sit in a kitchen chair. She made little hiccuping sniffs every so often, but she'd recovered enough to be paying close attention to the conversation. Noah took one of the chairs himself, sitting on the corner and hunching toward Sylar.

"He's saying it was probably a vigilante responding to Parkman's so-called terrorist act-"

"When Danko drugged him and strapped him with high explosives then threw him out of the back of a van in front of the Capitol Building," Peter interrupted impatiently, and Sylar tipped his head in acknowledgement.

"Everyone at the Building knows Danko killed Parkman and most of them approve. Nakamura's little stunt brought everyone there around to Danko's way of thinking."

"We have to stop him, we can't wait anymore!" Peter argued passionately. Tears still stood in his eyes, Parkman had been a good friend for a long time.

"And what would you suggest we do? Kill him? If Danko dies now, the government believes he's right about people with abilities. Instead of shutting down Building 26, we take the chance that things will only become worse." Noah's logic was clear and inarguable, and his calm voice defused Peter's wrath. Defeated, Peter went to sit on the couch next to Micah, who had been silently listening to the conversation.

"So what do we do, just wait for Danko to kill somebody else?" Claire asked the question, her voice still husky with tears.

"Nothing right now. We keep to the plan. Rene is back from Haiti, he's with Angela in New York. When he gets here, we start deleting peoples memories, while Rebel," Noah paused to smile at his new charge, "starts deleting their evidence. Only after transferring it to our files, of course. Then, when the time comes, Danko can be dealt with."

Her father's chilly tone and flat killer's eyes unnerved Claire. He moved so smoothly from her gentle and loving father to ruthless agent. In some ways, it reminded her of Sylar and his unpredictable personality changes.

"There is one more thing," Sylar continued, causing Claire to clench her jaw in uneasy anticipation. He was just full of good news tonight. "The Department of Homeland Security is sending another auditor to inspect Building 26."

"Didn't they send one already? She cleared the operation after Danko set up the murder of an agent by a special for her benefit." Noah didn't mention that it was Tracy Strauss who did the murdering, it wasn't something Micah needed to know.

"Given the President's new misgivings, they have decided that her report was...flawed. Apparently it's someone higher up the bureaucratic food chain this time. Danko is in a fury about it."

Noah had to chuckle over that, he could imagine that Danko's reaction had been expressed at high volume. "That's our chance to prove that Danko is a fanatic spending millions of taxpayer dollars on a wild goose chase. We have to take advantage of the opportunity."

"How?" Peter asked, resuming his pacing around Noah's apartment.

"I don't know yet, we'll have to think of something. How long until the auditor gets there, Sylar?"

"Sometime in the next few days, probably the day after tomorrow."

"So we have some time. Let's just stick to the plan for now and see what we turn up, and how much we can ramp up Danko's paranoia."

Everyone nodded in agreement, it was as much as they could do for now. Peter left immediately, saying he had to talk to his brother and mother to let them know what had happened. Noah waited for Sylar to get out, but the man appeared to be in no hurry and chewed meditatively on another slice of pizza. When he was finished, he turned to Noah.

"I need to talk to you." Sylar's eyes flicked over to Claire, where she sat on the couch next to Micah, wiping tears for Matt Parkman from her face. "Alone."

Noah's eyebrows rose in surprise, but he gestured towards the patio and followed Sylar as he walked outside. Sylar leaned his back against the railing, his dark eyes sharp on Noah's face.

"All those years working for the Company, you lied to your family. Maintained two identities. How?"

"Well, that was abrupt. What brought this on?"

"Being Talb every day, it's becoming...confusing. I live in his place and everything I touch has a memory, one of his memories. I'm shifting and reshifting my DNA so much I'm losing track of where I end and he begins. I need to know - how did you maintain a balance between yourself and the job?"

"My job did not include shapeshifting."

"Oh really? Loving husband and doting father in one life, cold blooded agent in the other. Sounds exactly like shapeshifting to me. So how did you do it, tell me."

Noah took in Sylar's shadowed eyes and the tight line of his mouth and swallowed his harsh retort. The man seemed grave and honestly in need of the answer to his question. Unfortunately, he didn't have a good one.

"Look, I'm probably the wrong person to ask. You pointed out my failure in that regard yourself back in Costa Verde. I've separated from my wife, my son barely knows I'm alive, and my daughter doesn't trust me anymore."

"I'm not talking about your family life, I'm talking about your...." Sylar paced rapidly around the small confines of the patio deck, running his hands roughly through his hair. "Your identity, I guess. How did you know who you were in the middle of all those lies?"

"I always focused on what was important. No matter what I said or did, I knew I was doing it for my family. To keep Claire safe."

"For Claire." Sylar turned his eyes from Noah's face and looked in the window at Claire. Micah had finally managed to coax a smile from her as he acted out a story.

"In part, yes."

Sylar nodded thoughtfully, eyes fixed on the middle distance. Without another word he lifted himself from the ground and darted into the sky.

"Nice talking to you," Noah muttered, and went back inside..

***

Peter could not get a call through to his mother that night, because she was on a plane flying back to New York. Rene sat beside her, silently comforting, as she gazed out the small window. The darkness outside showed her nothing but her own memories of the day. She'd gone to see her brother.

"Well, here's a surprise. What brings you all the way out here, Angela?"

The sight of her younger brother cut Angela like a knife. His face was gray, and his eyes were yellow. He was thin to the point of emaciation, and Angela thought she could probably lift him up and carry him. His voice was guttural and came between deep gasping breaths. Death stood over his shoulder and would obviously take him soon. Despite all that, his eyes were as sharp as they had ever been, and as cruel. He smiled at her discomfiture, at her grief for his incipient death. He hadn't really changed at all.

"Gabriel told me he'd been here. He said you were dying, and I wanted to come and see you."

Samson laughed, a hacking and bitter sound. "To make sure it was really true, that you'd finally be rid of me. Well, I don't blame you, I guess."

"How long have you got left?" The question was cold, but Angela's eyes clinging to her brother's face were not.

"Days, maybe. I hope."

"I told you that you shouldn't have started smoking."

"I shouldn't have done a lot of things." That was so true it burned them both and left them in silence for a little while. The only sound in the room was the ticking of the clock and the sizzle of his cigarette as he drew in another puff.

After the silence had stretched long enough that Samson had to light another cigarette, Angela took a deep breath and spoke. "I came to tell you that Alice is alive."

"What did you say?" For a moment, his eyes reminded her of her precious little brother, before the massacre at Coyote Sands and the insistent demands of his hunger had destroyed him.

"She's been there, at Coyote Sands, all those years. I told her we'd come back for her, that she had to wait for us. So she did."

A haunting sadness reflected itself in Samson Gray's dying eyes, but it lasted only a moment. He shrugged it aside with the callousness built up over a lifetime of cruelty and violence. "That makes two of us you abandoned. Some sister you are."

Angela closed her eyes against the familiar pain of it. The talent for twisting guilt and fears until they cut like knives and made more sense than your own perspective seemed to run in the family. God knew that she had used her tongue as a weapon more than once in her life, and Sylar was even more talented at it than she.

"I've been wondering something for more than twenty years, Samson. Why did you kill Laurel? You seemed so happy together, you seemed to find a way to deal with your Hunger. I thought you loved her."

"I did love her. That's why I killed her. That's all I am, you know, a killer. It's all I ever was or ever will be, I just let myself forget it for a few years. My son is just the same." Samson paused ruminatively, pulling smoke from his cigarette again. "So you've taken him in, have you?" Angela nodded, her eyes guarded. "Do you think that's a good idea? He's got my power, y'know."

"I know that. He doesn't have to go the same way you did. We can help-" She was interrupted by Samson's choking laugh, which trailed off into a painful series of coughs.

"Don't bullshit me, Angela. You've been dreaming of him since we were kids, and I know it. I recognized him from your description as soon as I laid eyes on him."

Angela stood, brushing cigarette ash from her skirt. "I guess there's nothing left to say. Goodbye, Samson"

His voice caught her before she reached the door. "You'll fail him, Angela. Just like you failed me."

Angela paused in the threshold and looked back at her dying brother. "Maybe. I've failed at so much in my life, hurt my family so much. Alice, you." She turned back to him, her eyes as green and hard as emeralds. "But I will not fail my family anymore. You didn't want to change, not really. You wanted to be cruel, you revelled in it – the blood, the power. Gabriel can change. I've dreamed it."

"You've dreamed other futures for him, you told me of your nightmares about him long before he was born."

"I dreamed other futures for you too, Samson. Nothing is written in stone. I won't give up, not this time."

He took that in silence, his eyes full of old pain and dried blood. "Goodbye, Angela." She nodded and took her first step away before his voice caught her. "Look after him. My son, I mean. I...I hope you're right."

She didn't look back at him, and the tears did not start to fall until she reached the truck. Rene sat behind the driver's wheel, face etched with concern. He was the one person in all the world she would allow to see her like this.

"Get me the hell out of here." The Haitian nodded, silent as always, and drove away.

Now she sat in a plane remembering her siblings. She would see neither of them again, she would know it was true even if she hadn't dreamed it. They had been happy once, cared for by loving parents. The world had made sense then, as it never had since. She ruthlessly wiped the tear trickling down her face away and steeled her heart. She would not let her family down again.


	22. Chapter 22: Touchstone

A/N: Shout OUT to Reckless Kelly for the chapter name! This chapter took a long time to write, I'm closing in on the end and I didn't want to paint myself into a corner. I spell the Haitians name as Rene because he is a man, if he was a woman the name would be Renee. As always, I can't thank you enough for the reviews, when I get stuck I look at them and they inspire me! Hope you enjoy :)

***

Chapter 22: Touchstone

"Jenkins. Have you finished your report on Sylar yet?"

Jenkins swiveled away from his computer to stare blankly at Danko. "My report on who, sir?"

Danko narrowed his eyes in irritation. "Get it together, Jenkins, you've been working on that report for days! He's here in Washington, I know it, and I want to know where!"

"I'm sorry, sir, but I really don't know what you're talking about."

Neither Jenkins' brown eyes nor his demeanor had any hint of deception. Danko was excellent at reading people, and Jenkins had honest man written all over him. This was despite the fact that he and Jenkins had discussed the Sylar file yesterday. In that conversation Danko had made it very clear that he expected that report as soon as possible. Danko felt a chill run over him. Something he didn't understand was going on and he loathed that feeling past rationality.

"Get out of the chair."

"Of course, sir." The thin man in a blue suit rose from his chair and made room for Danko to seat himself at the desk.

Danko searched the computer for the files related to Sylar. Jenkins had been hunched over this computer for days working on the Sylar report. He found nothing. The report was gone, and the only file that remained under Sylar's name on the computer had a smiley face on its thumbnail. When Danko opened it, the monitor went black and the word **REBEL** scrolled across the screen, repeating endlessly.

A sudden burst of desperate fury overwhelmed Danko. He stood up so swiftly that the chair fell over backwards, nearly knocking the unfortunate Jenkins over. "Everyone! Check your computers!" He shouted.

Danko's agents were trained to be obedient before questioning. They all bent to their computers to check their systems. "Anything in particular we should be looking for sir?" Agent Talb asked, managing to keep the smirk from his face with great difficulty.

"Anything that shouldn't be there, anything different," Danko replied, voice tight with frustration. There was a clatter of keyboards, then a chorus of voices calling that their systems were unchanged.

"What's going on, sir?" Jenkins spoke cautiously, trying to feel out Danko's mood. His boss had been very unpredictable for days now, ever since... Jenkins frowned in confusion, but skirted past the thought. He couldn't remember when he'd noticed it, but there was definitely something going on with Danko.

"Look at this!" Danko snapped, standing up to let Jenkins see the monitor. Jenkins looked from the blank computer screen to Danko without comment. Danko all but growled in anger, and Sylar watching from the next desk had to cough to cover a laugh. Talb's shell around him had become increasingly unbearable, but the fun of watching Danko's paranoid frustration was almost worth it. Everything was going exactly as planned. Perhaps even better than planned, it was obvious that many of the agents were becoming increasingly anxious about Danko's erratic behavior.

Danko stared furiously at the monitor Rebel's name had run across. Finally he cursed and stalked into his office, closing the door with a loud looked back to his monitor and typed,** IT WORKED. ON TO THE NEXT ONE, ** into the black box on his screen. The words disappeared and were replaced a moment later by, **HE'S READY**.

"Hey, Cameron," Talb called, and a redheaded woman with hard amber eyes looked up at him. "I need to talk to you about the Peter Petrelli report. Got a minute?"

"Sure," Cameron said as she rose from her chair and followed him into the small conference room across the hall, smiling at his gentlemanly show of opening the door and gesturing for her to precede him. When she walked into the room she saw a tall black man leaning against the large table. She tried to backpedal but Sylar pushed her forward and closed his arms around her from the back. Her startled yell was cut off by his big hand. With no access to his abilities in the presence of the Haitian, Sylar had to struggle a bit to keep her contained.

"She's working on a report about Peter, and she was instrumental in the Tracy Strauss incident. Take it all." Sylar grunted with effort as he spoke, but he had almost a foot of height on the diminutive woman and she could not escape him.

The Haitian nodded, his expression tinged with a cold distaste for his current partner. Cameron moaned in fear as the Haitian advanced toward her, the sound muffled by Sylar's palm. Rene stretched his long fingers around Cameron's face and closed his eyes in concentration. He plucked the memories from her mind like threads from a tapestry. Cameron's eyes rolled back in her head and Sylar had to catch her before she hit the floor.

"Are you okay? You looked a little dizzy in there," Sylar asked quietly, feigning concern as he led Cameron out into the hall, closing the door firmly behind them.

"I don't know," Cameron whispered, blinking rapidly. "I don't remember."

"You just need a little rest. We'll talk about that report when you feel better." Sylar helped Cameron back to her desk, easing her down into her chair.

"What report?"

Sylar smiled reassuringly, blue eyes crinkling at the corners. "Oh, nothing, I must have gotten you mixed up with someone else." He looked at the monitor behind her and saw a hand, fist clenched and thumb raised, appear on the screen. "Feel better, okay?"

Cameron nodded, still a bit dazed and spun the chair around to face the monitor. _What was I working on?_ For the life of her she couldn't remember. The niggling sensation quickly faded and as her mind cleared. _Oh well_, she thought. _Lots to do_, _I'm sure whatever it was will come up later._

Sylar eyed her from across the room, thinking about the brain's impressive ability to fill in gaps and ignore what doesn't make sense. **ON TO THE NEXT ONE**_, _he typed.

***

Later that afternoon, Danko came out of his office and wandered the room in an impromptu inspection. Occasionally he would rap out a harsh question at an agent, who would stammer out an answer. After a full circuit of the room he stopped and looked around, forehead furrowed in thought.

"Talb, Foster, Graham, come into my office for a moment," Danko called out, before walking to his office and opening the door. They followed and he ushered them in, then closed the blinds behind them. Sylar eyed Danko with interest, wondering what the man was up to.

"Gentlemen, you three are my best agents, the men I trust most. I want to bring you in on something, but I have to warn you that what I'm planning is deep black ops. Sometimes you have to break the rules to do what needs to be done. If you don't feel comfortable with that, go ahead and leave now before you hear anything incriminating, and nothing more will be said about it."

The two agents and the disguised Sylar exchanged glances, then nodded. "We're with you sir," Sylar worked to keep the grin from his face as he spoke. This was a perfect opportunity, it looked like picking Danko's must trusted agent had worked out after all.

"You know the situation. Senator Petrelli almost has the President convinced that this whole operation is a wild goose hunt, that these...people do not exist. You and I know different, they are a threat to us and we need to eliminate them." Danko's three agents nodded, he was preaching to the choir with this argument. "What you don't know is that we have been infiltrated by some of these freaks. People are forgetting who we're hunting, computer files have been taken. Rebel is behind it, and I have reason to believe that Sylar has joined him."

Sylar didn't so much as blink, he'd known his disappearance to Coyote Sands would provoke this reaction. He'd already passed at least two subtle personality tests from Danko on his identity, and he was sure that Foster and Graham had passed as well.

"What can we do, sir?" Graham asked, his black eyes steady in his dark face. Graham was the perfect agent: clean cut, intelligent and completely ruthless.

"For now, nothing. I just wanted to bring you in and tell you my plan. You need to keep your eyes open for any irregular behaviour in your fellow agents. Remember that Sylar can shapeshift, so he could be any one of those people out there. I'll be tapping you for specific tasks as time goes by. Understood?"

The three agents again met eyes before nodding. "Understood, sir. You can count on us," Sylar replied.

"Dismissed."

***

Claire spent the day at her father's apartment, trying to keep herself busy. Micah sat on the couch, holding his iPhone with an absent face. Before he'd started his work with Sylar and the Haitian, Claire had insisted that he set up Noah's computer to show the feed from Building 26. She watched Sylar in Talb's face unobtrusively lead several agents into the conference room. Occasionally someone else would walk into the room, but they invariably came out a few minutes later and rose no alarm. Clearly the Haitian was ensuring that they remembered nothing of his presence.

By the afternoon her interest in watching a blank Micah and the activity in Building 26 had waned dramatically. In an effort to keep herself busy, she packed her father's belongings for the move on the weekend. When she tired of that, she called her mother. Her Mom seemed very well, she was getting Lyle ready for the SATs that Claire would not write. She'd met a man at a local dog show, and when she spoke of him she had a giddy note in her voice. Claire was glad they were doing well, and missed them both. What surprised her was that the reminder of the normal life she could have lived did not pain her as much as she would have guessed. Somewhere along the way she had come to terms with the fact that her life was not normal and never would be.

Claire got off the phone and packed some more, before finally sitting on the chair across from Micah. When he finally returned to himself he found her staring fixedly at him, chin in hand.

"Hi Claire. That's a bit creepy."

"I'm _bored,_ Micah. I need something to do. You need to find me someone to I can help."

"We promised not to until your Dad gets back from the Island." The name for the new Company headquarters had already stuck.

"Micah, you know I can do this, I'll be fine. Don't make me go through another day like this, I'll go crazy!"

"I don't know..."

"Come on, whose side are you on anyway?"

"Yours, I guess," Micah said with a heavy sigh. "Okay, you win. There's a man named Tom Howard, he runs an antique shop. Danko's guys have been tracking him. He can make objects disintegrate, so they've designated him a 'dangerous subject.' Micah brought up a picture of a small bald man with lopsided eyes. "He's really not dangerous at all, though."

"I'll go talk to him tomorrow, tell him to watch his back." Claire leaned down to kiss him on the cheek, but not far. Micah was growing fast, and his dark skin flushed at the contact.

"Thanks, Micah. Now that we've settled that, let's watch America's Next Top Model. It's makeover day!"

"Oh, joy," Micah grumbled.

***

When Sylar woke up the following morning, he glared at the ceiling with a profound sensation of wrongness. He raised his hands in front of his face and saw that they were short fingered and dusted with blonde hair. A frown furrowed his brow as he pulled himself up and walked to the bathroom.

"Why does this keep happening?" Talb's face in the mirror asked with Sylar's voice. The shift back to his own form was difficult, and there was a terrible moment when he couldn't remember how his genetic code differed from Talb's. The reflection in the mirror rippled and bulged until finally settling into his own dark features.

Sylar adjusted his jaw, feeling an unfamiliar discomfort. Reaching into his mouth he found a wisdom tooth protruding from the back of his jaw. The only problem was that Gabriel Gray had his wisdom teeth removed at 18 years old. He yanked the tooth out viciously, ignoring the sharp biting pain until the gaping wound closed. He stared at the bloody molar in his hand, almost dizzy with horror.

Sylar looked into his own panicked brown eyes and asked the only question he could think of. "Who are you?"

All he wanted to do was run. Kick the dust of Washington from his heels and fly wherever he wanted. Be himself again. He threw the tooth into the bathroom sink and walked out into the living room. With tight lips he regarded the watch on his work table, laying on its face with the back case open. His fingers shook as he ran them along the braid of the strap, its glimmer reminding him of softer strands of golden hair.

"For Claire, huh?" He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. "I'll try."

***

Danko was waiting for Sylar when he got to Building 26. Before he'd even made it over to his desk, Danko called him into his office.

"Talb. I need you to go to this address, and report the murder of one Tom Howard. He had an extremely dangerous ability, one that our friend Sylar apparently wanted."

Sylar had no idea who Tom Howard was and wanted no such thing. "If you know there's been a murder why do you need to send me?" Sylar asked, though he already knew the answer.

"Because I don't officially know about it yet." Danko's voice was flat and his meaning clear. He'd executed another person with abilities.

"Understood, sir," Sylar replied, then set off.

The address Danko had given Sylar led to an old brownstone apartment building. Sylar took the stairs to the second floor and discovered the door to the apartment he was after had been left slightly ajar. Closing the door behind him, he gratefully shifted back into his own form. Tom Howard had lived in a room more like an antique shop than a home. Every wall of the room had a cabinet against it, and each glass cabinet shelf held dozens of delicate porcelain dolls. All of the cabinets were inset with lights, and the golden light that shone on the figurines revealed not one speck of dust.

The decor was not the object of Sylar's interest however, he was preoccupied by the body lying on the floor of the room. A man, presumably Tom Howard, lay in a pool of his own blood with his head turned awkwardly to the side. The top of the man's head had been cut off, and his brains had been pulled out to lie in grotesque ribbons around his body. On the wall the words I AM SYLAR were written in blood.

Immediately his first ability gave him the understanding of how Danko's plan worked. The unique characteristics of Sylar's killings had baffled law enforcement since he had started collecting powers. Howard's murder lent credence to Danko's argument that not only did specials exist, but that they were a menace to society. The icing on Danko's cake was the murder itself, since eliminating everyone with abilities was his ultimate goal. One almost had to admire the efficiency of the plan.

Sylar squatted to get a closer look when he heard a gasp from behind him. He cursed his uncharacteristic lapse in awareness of his surroundings as he jumped to his feet and whirled to face the interloper. Claire Bennet stood in the threshold, a horrified expression on her face. Sylar closed his eyes and stifled a bitter laugh. Of course she would show up here, of all places.

"What have you done?" Claire hissed, looking up and down the hallway before closing the door behind her.

"I didn't do this, Claire." He started towards her as she spoke, then stopped when she flinched away, hands raised before him unthreateningly.

"Dead guy with his skull opened, your name on the wall, and you're telling me you didn't do it."

"It's a setup! Look at this, it's obvious I didn't do it." His dark brown eyes were intense on her face. She kept her face turned away, not wanting to meet his eyes. "Claire, please. Just look."

"Fine. I'll look," Claire responded, then tightened her jaw and turned her eyes to the body the floor. She'd come here to help this man, not to play amateur pathologist, but she had a responsibility to find out what had happened to him. She also had to admit to herself that she was looking for a way to prove Sylar hadn't done this. She steeled herself and bent down to examine the murdered man.

Claire had watched Sylar remove skulls on two occasions. The first time was when he killed Jackie at her Homecoming. The second time had been his attack on her in Costa Verde. Both times, the wounds Sylar inflicted drilled through the dense skull bone with impossible precision. By contrast, Tom Howard's skull had been butchered. It was hard to tell under the blood, but it looked to her like there were many false starts and broken bits of skull, hardly Sylar's precise telekinetic slice. Further, she knew from first hand experience that Sylar opened the skull to examine the brain in order to see how an ability worked. Pulling it out in chunks was counterproductive.

"I believe -." She faltered and had to clear her throat. "I believe you, you didn't kill him. Do you know who did?"

"Danko," Sylar replied, feeling a rush of relief cascade through him so powerfully that his knees almost buckled. "He sent me – well, Talb - here to find the body."

"Why is he doing this, why is he trying to set you up like this?"

"He wants to prove that people with abilities are a danger to each other as well as the general population. Nathan is doing a good job of shaking the President's confidence in the operation. Danko's trying to convince him otherwise."

Claire nodded thoughtfully, looking down at the crumpled form that had been Tom Howard. "Micah told me about him. He was an antiques shop owner, you know. He volunteered at the local homeless shelter and at an old-age home. He paid his taxes, he helped his community, but Danko didn't care about any of that. He just murdered him as if he didn't count as a person at all." Claire turned her sharp eyes to Sylar, gesturing at the body and the bloody name on the wall. "Not long ago, if you had met him, this would be no different."

"I'm not like that anymore," Sylar whispered, stung by her matter of fact words.

"I hope so. People are worth more than this."

Sylar didn't know what to say to that, so he remained silent contemplating the body of Tom Howard. Before Claire had found him on that plane, people were only worth what he could gain from them. Once he had what he wanted he discarded them, and told himself that it was his biological destiny. He didn't want to think that way anymore. He shook himself out of his musings with a start, remembering why he'd come here in the first place.

"You have to get out of here, Claire. Danko is expecting me to call this in, this place will be crawling with agents soon."

Claire nodded and turned to leave.

"Claire." She stopped at the sound of her name, but didn't turn around. "Thank you for believing me." His voice was so deep and scratchy that it was almost inaudible.

She stood in the threshold a moment, looking at the floor. "You didn't do it. Just - just keep being worth believing in," she said, then walked out of his sight.

Back at the Company, barricaded in his office, Danko watched the pair through the pinhole camera he'd left in Howard's room. There was a chance that Rebel would pick up on the signal, but he had to hope that Rebel wasn't omniscient, and it was worth the risk.

"Gotcha."


	23. Chapter 23: Assassin

Chapter 23: Assassin

Something dragged Claire abruptly from sleep, and she was upright before her eyes were all the way open. She looked around herself in a dim panic, trying to remember where she was. The red digits of the alarm clock on her nightstand told her it was 3:35 am, and she wondered if she'd been having a nightmare. She jumped in alarm as a soft knocking came from her window. The windows were covered with sheer curtains, and on the other side she could see a man's silhouette. Given that her father's apartment was on the third floor, this would have panicked many women, but Claire took it in stride.

"Who is that? Dad or Peter?" The window was cracked open for the night breeze, so she knew whoever it was could hear her.

"None of the above." Claire froze in the act of climbing out of bed, staring incredulously at the shadow. The deep timbre of that voice was unmistakable.

"Sylar? What are you doing here?"

"Can I come in?"

"No!" Claire almost yelled it and clapped her hands over her mouth after it escaped. A dog barked but nothing else seemed to be disturbed. She spared a thought of relief that her dad was out of town overnight. "Can't this wait until morning?"

"No." His tone would brook no argument, and Claire sighed heavily. She really didn't need him ripping the wall open in order to get what he wanted.

"God, you are impossible! Okay, wait there, I'll climb out."

Claire blamed the pounding of her heart and the hot flush she felt on the the surprise of the visit, not the identity of the visitor. She grumbled irritably as she pulled on yoga pants, a tank top and canvas deck shoes.

"What are you doing here?" Claire hissed as she slid her window open. A huge tree stretched a thick branch right below her window, and he was sitting pressed close against the trunk with his back to her, head tilted up to meet the moonlight. He did not turn to face her when she eased her way onto the branch beside him. Her anger died when she saw his face. He was pale and drawn, and his mouth set in miserable lines. She was stunned to see tears standing in his eyes, catching the light of the moon.

"I needed to see you." Sylar's voice broke a little as he said it, and Claire felt a dizzying barrage of emotions roll over her. Not too long ago he had stalked her, pinned her to a wall and cut her head open. He'd killed her biological mother and very nearly her grandmother, and God only knew how many other people. Now he sat here as if she were the only person in the world who could help him. The strangest thing of all was that the pain in his eyes nearly killed her.

"What's going on with you?" She looked searchingly at his profile. Sylar would not turn to face her but stared out into the dark.

"Last night I went to sleep as myself, but I woke up as Agent Talb. I didn't mean to change, I just did. Look at this!" Before Claire's appalled eyes he pulled a tooth out of his pocket. "I found an extra tooth in my mouth, where did that even come from?" With shaking hands, Sylar threw the molar savagely out into the dark. "I'm _losing _myself, Claire."

"Hey. Look at me."

Sylar was unwilling to, for reasons he was unable to articulate even to himself. He had wondered what he was doing the whole flight to her, and he had no answers still. All he knew was that she was the only person who could help him find his way through this maze he'd trapped himself in.

"Look at me!"

The sternness of her voice overwhelmed his resistance, and he turned to look into her eyes. They were cool shadowed pools, steady on his face. "I don't think you've known who you are for a long time. You are the only one of us who completely abandoned the person you were when you learned about your abilities. You even threw away your own name. You've let your powers define you, and you named them Sylar."

Of all things he would have expected her to say, this was the last. Words failed him and he could think of no response. Finally he allowed the anger that had come to dominate his life since he'd become Sylar to rise. It seemed a safe shield.

"You don't know anything about me!" He snapped the words off viciously. "I've left Gabriel Gray far behind – he was a nothing!"

"I know you better than you think. Sylar isn't a real person and you know it. You have told yourself that you're not Gabriel Gray because that way you don't have to take any responsibility for the things you do. I also know you don't want to be alone. _That's_ why you brought me from that plane, and that's why you're working with us now. But Sylar is toxic, and if you keep living this lie, you'll always be alone."

Alone, she'd said, _alone. _Her words hit him like drumbeats, shaking him to the bone. Grasping her arms, he dropped them both to the ground. There he pressed her to the tree trunk and kissed her harshly, trying to erase her words and quiet the mouth that spoke them. She did not struggle, but she did not return his kiss either. She stood under his almost frenzied assault until her lack of response froze him. He stepped back a pace, but Claire did not move. She stayed against the tree trunk, her face lost in the shadows.

"Why do you keep kissing me? Are you playing me, is this some game?" Claire questioned softly.

"This is no game, Claire," Sylar's voice was low and husky, ravaged by emotion.

"Then why are you doing it?"

"You said you didn't hate me anymore!"

"Just because I don't hate you doesn't mean that I love you!"

"Who said I loved you!" Sylar exploded, then leaped into the air. It was true though, and he finally knew it as he streaked through the sky. He hurt with how much he loved her and he could not understand how he hadn't realized before. It was hopeless and so futile, and could have no good ending for him or for her. But he loved her.

Claire looked after Sylar until long after the jet trail disappeared with an ache in her chest she wouldn't name to herself. The ache eventually gave way to a sick feeling of dread. Sylar was hurt, angry, and fundamentally unstable. If he was out of control again, he could quite literally do anything. She tiptoed from her bedroom and into the kitchen, where she took the car keys and let herself out, gingerly closing the door behind her.

_I should call somebody,_ she thought to herself. _If he's really gone crazy again, I won't be able to stop him myself._ It was definitely the smart move, but she knew she wasn't going to do it. She wanted to settle this with Sylar, alone. Claire cursed herself for a fool the whole drive over to Talb's apartment.

She buzzed repeatedly at the door, but Sylar was either not there or he was ignoring her. The apartment was on the main floor, so she dodged furtively around the back. She was prepared to break a window to let herself in, but in his distraction Sylar had left the patio door open. Claire called his name quietly as she entered, but she knew that he wasn't there. On a table in the living room a gold watch glimmered, small tools neatly arrayed around it. It was beautiful, with a cherry wood face and a gold braided strap. She touched it tentatively, then took it from the table and wrapped it around her wrist.

"Where are you?" She asked the empty room.

Sylar didn't know where he was going, he was just fleeing. Escaping Talb, Claire, himself. They kept up with him, no matter how fast he flew. A long blank time passed before he pulled up to hover in the air. He looked down and saw open ocean shimmering in the predawn light. He had no idea where he was, or even where the nearest land was. If he went the wrong way, he could fly all the way across the Atlantic, and that was if he managed to keep his bearings over the featureless water. It was possible that he could could end up flying in circles for hours.

The only way to orient himself was to fly up until he could see land from high altitude. It wasn't long before he saw land, but he didn't stop there. Up, further up until he could see the curve of the Earth where the blue met black. It was bitterly cold at the top of the sky, and the air was thin. His regenerative powers spared him none of the pain of freezing flesh or burning lungs. When he could go no further he went limp, falling several thousand metres in a near faint.

_I'm in free fall_, he thought hazily. He wasn't sure if he meant in this moment or his life in general. The air grew warmer and more breathable as he fell and he slowed himself to a gentle halt. The world was open to him. With shapeshifting and flying, he could go anywhere and be anything. He would be free, but he would be alone. The outcome was not really in doubt. With nowhere else to go, he returned to Talb's apartment, alighting gently on the patio.

Claire was asleep on the couch, the dawning sunlight melting across her. The gamut of emotions that ran through him at the sight of her was physically painful, and he was turning to leave again when her eyes opened.

"You came back," she said, a relieved expression on her face.

"What are you doing here?" The pain in his chest frustrated him, and the words grated out more harshly then he had intended.

She narrowed her eyes in response to his tone. She had been up most of the night because of him, worried that he was out there somewhere killing people, and she was in no mood for his temper. "I was worried about you, alright? I didn't know where else to go, so I waited here."

"I don't need you to be worried about me, Claire."

"Fine." As she rose from the couch, the sunlight flashed off the watch around her wrist.

"Why do you have that on?" He stalked towards her as he spoke, grabbing the wrist with the watch strapped to it and pulling it roughly upwards. He yanked her up to the tip of her toes, tipping her body against his. She resisted his grip but he held her fast and after a moment's struggle she subsided, leaning away from him as best she could. Sylar brought his mouth down until it was a breath away from hers. "Let me repeat the question. Why are you wearing that watch?"

In the hours she waited for Sylar, fatigue had drawn Claire to lie on the cushions of his couch. She had curled up and placed her wrist pulled up beside her face so that she could look at the watch. She'd had every intention of taking it off before he got back, but the soft tick of its gears had lulled her to sleep. That uncomfortable feeling of being caught out at something combined with his assault set off her temper.

"Get off me! I didn't mean anything by it, I was just looking at it..."

A muscle in Sylar's jaw jumped but he released her wrist. "Just get out." He was tired. Yet again his whole world had been thrown upside down and he wanted her away from him until he could sort everything out.

"Don't you want the -" Claire frowned as she worked the catch of the watch.

"Get out!" Sylar roared, and Claire jumped away from him. She forgot about the watch and all but ran from the apartment. Sylar clenched his fist to his sides until he was sure she was gone, then let out a pained snarl. He looked at the table where he'd spent hours repairing Claire's watch and snatched it up with his power, slamming it against the wall. The wood splintered and the small tools went flying. He stood panting down at the wreckage, fists clenched so tightly that his nails cut his palms.

_I'm in free fall._

_I was a killer, was the best they'd ever seen._

_I'd steal your heart before you ever heard a thing._

_I'm an assassin and I had a job to do._

_Little did I know that girl was an assassin too._

- John Mayer


	24. Chapter 24: Telephone Tag

Chapter 24: Telephone Tag

Claire was crying by the time she got back to the car. She didn't understand what had just happened. Her relationship with Sylar was some sort of crazed carnival ride, and she could never get her bearings. Sylar was unstable, erratic and the most dangerous person in the world, but she just couldn't seem to stay away from him. She never heard them coming. One moment she was fumbling for the car keys with tear-blurred eyes, the next the world went black as a bag was pulled over her head. When she drew in a breath to scream, a fist caught her in the short ribs, knocking her wind away. She gasped for breath while a knee slammed into the small of her back before her arms were pulled roughly behind her. Claire fell to her knees, struggling for air as her wrists were handcuffed behind her.

"Should we drug her, sir?" The voice belonged to the man who had so efficiently restrained her. He stood behind her and pulled her to her feet as he spoke.

"No, she's no threat. Just take her to the cell." She was jerked into motion as her captor moved away. After a few steps, the voice continued from behind them. "Graham. Be cautious. No one can see her before it's time."

"Yes, sir."

"Wait!" Claire exclaimed, pulling her slight weight against the man who held her. "Are you Danko?" The pressure on her elbow ceased as Graham slowed to a stop. After a moment the black hood was pulled sharply from her head. Blinking in the light, Claire saw a short, almost emaciated man with intense blue eyes. His mouth was set in smug lines as he regarded her.

"Yes, I'm Emil Danko. We actually met once before in the aircraft carrier, before you started this whole mess."

"Don't try to pretend all of this is my fault, when you're the one to blame," Claire bit off.

"I'm just doing my job, and all of you people are dangerous. Except you, I guess. All you have is the ability to heal, right? Like Sylar."

Claire ground her teeth at the taunt. "Sylar stole that power from me, so technically he heals like me."

"I don't suppose you know where he is, do you?"

"How should I know where that psychopath is?"

"Because you just left his apartment." Danko replied, then smiled triumphantly at the expression of shock on her face that she couldn't hide. "Oh, yes I know about Sylar's undercover agent act. I have worked undercover myself, and I recognized the signs. What's that thing called, where he picks up memories from objects? That made it a little harder to figure out, but your date in Howard's apartment yesterday gave me the confirmation I needed."

"If you know that he's Talb, why are you kidnapping me and not going after him?"

Danko just smiled in response, eyes full of self-satisfaction, before he pulled the black bag over her head again. She tried to struggle but Graham easily overpowered her, and when she tried to call out for help she was punched in the stomach again. Coughing, she was dragged away and thrown into a trunk. The car bounced as someone entered the vehicle and turned the engine over. Claire thought she heard the car she'd come in start up as well before she banged against the side of the trunk as the car accelerated.

Claire's eyes filled with frustrated tears that dampened the hood over her face. Not for the first time she cursed the fact that her ability was so passive. The only thing she could do to her enemies was bleed on them. Now she was being used as some sort of pawn in Danko's game, and there was nothing she could do about it.

"Bennet." Noah stiffened as Danko's familiar growl came through his cell phone.

"Danko? What the hell do you want?" Noah waved sharply at Peter to get his attention. Peter put down the box he was carrying and walked toward Noah, wiping the sweat from his brow as he stripped off his work gloves. Noah had decided that the morgue of the old sanitarium on the Island would be ideal location for the new high security holding cells they needed in order to capture the more dangerous specials on Noah's list. The pair had been in the process of clearing decades worth of detritus from the morgue when Danko called.

"I have your daughter."

The light flashed from Noah's glasses, hiding his eyes as his mouth thinned. "That's very unwise," he replied in a deadly tone.

"We'll see." Danko chuckled, clearly very pleased with himself.

"What do you want?"

"I want Sylar. I know you're working with him. He – and only he - shows up on Dock 9 at 11pm tonight or I'm going to put a railroad spike in the back of your daughter's head and burn her body until there is nothing left. I'll do the same if I see any of the rest of you."

"If you harm so much as a hair on her head there is nowhere on Earth that you can hide from me."

"I'll take my chances. I don't want to hurt your precious Claire, I'm after much bigger game. Think about it, Bennet. You get your daughter back and I make it so that you never see Sylar again. It's a good deal."

The line went dead and Noah slapped his cell phone closed viciously, his eyes a dangerous steel blue. He unrolled his shirtsleeves and tucked in his shirt, then strapped his holster on and pulled his gray jacket atop that.

"Who was that? What's going on?" Peter asked. He had watched Noah's transformation from handyman to Company Man and couldn't help thinking that he was glad Bennet was on his side.

"Danko has Claire. He's saying he'll trade her for Sylar."

Peter's eyes widened with shock, replaced in a heartbeat by anger. "That's it, Noah, we have to do something about this guy _now._ He's out of control!"

Noah couldn't help but agree. No matter what, Danko was proving too dangerous and had to be contained. They would just have to deal with the consequences of that later. "Call Nathan and your mother, we'd better call in the troops for this one. We have to get to D.C. as soon as possible. I'll call Sylar."

Peter nodded and pulled out his phone, walking into the next room so they wouldn't be talking over one another. Noah opened his own phone again, scrolling through the saved numbers until he found Sylar's. The irony that he needed Sylar's help in order to save Claire did not escape him, and he took a deep breath before he pressed the talk button.

"Talb here."

"Sylar, it's Bennet."

Sylar looked around quickly to make sure there was no one in earshot. "What the hell are you doing ca-"

"Danko has Claire," Noah interrupted impatiently, and Sylar's mouth closed with a snap. Taking another quick look around, he rose from his desk and walked into the conference room.

"How do you know?" Sylar asked after closing the door firmly behind him. He began to pace around the desk, eyebrows beetled together.

"Because he just called me. He wants to set up a trade, you for Claire, tonight at the docks."

"Why me? What is he playing at?"

"I don't know, but it's obviously a trap."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious."

Noah rolled his eyes but restrained himself otherwise. "Why don't you know about this already? Does he suspect Talb?"

"No, he's brought me further into his plans. I just got in late this morning."

A suspicious chill ran down Noah's spine as he heard this. Claire, who should have been home safe in her bed had been taken on the same morning that Sylar was late getting to Building 26. "I don't suppose you know where Claire was when Danko kidnapped her do you?"

"Not exactly," Sylar hedged. Noah's stony silence at this was a weight he could not leverage and so he continued, "She was at my place. She was...helping me with something."

Noah could not even begin to imagine what Claire could have been helping Sylar with, but he knew he didn't like it one bit. "You listen to me, Sylar, and you listen good. No matter what happens today, I want you to stay the hell away from my daughter."

Sylar never cared for being told what he could or could not do. "Don't you think that's between me and Claire? I didn't ask her to come, all right? She came on her own." This last was delivered as a taunt, and Noah ground his teeth. None of this was getting them any closer to rescuing Claire, and right now that was the top priority. Time enough to settle it after they had Claire, and Noah made a promise to himself to make sure that happened.

"It doesn't matter right now where she was taken, only that she has been. Our one ace in the hole is that Danko doesn't know you're Talb. You have to find out where Danko has Claire and figure out what he's got planned for you."

"You know Noah, I'd love to stay here and listen to you telling me things I already know all day, but I thought I'd go get Claire instead." With that, Sylar hung up.

Noah had no sooner disconnected his call with Sylar when his phone rang again. Noah looked at the display and was not surprised to see the call was from Micah. Opening the phone he said, "Hello Micah, I know she's not there."

Sylar stood with Talb's phone in his clenched fist. In that moment all that he wanted to do was walk out of this bare white room and destroy everything until he found Claire. The door of the room actually trembled in its threshold as his instinct to lash out came over him. It was only the thought that Danko might be able to take Claire's head before Sylar could get to her that slowly broke through the rage clouding his mind. The door ceased its shivering as Sylar closed his eyes and threw back his head taking several deep, gasping breaths. When he opened his eyes, the vulnerable confusion that had lived there was gone, replaced by the lambent gaze of the hunter. He looked to his telephone and dialed Danko's number.

"Where the hell have you been, Talb?" Danko greeted Sylar's call with a growl.

"I'm sorry I'm late, sir. Long night."

_I'll just bet_, Danko thought before he spoke again. "We're taking Sylar today. I need you to get down to the warehouse at Dock 9 where we're making the exchange and start setting up the ambush."

"Exchange? What do you mean?"

"Noah's little girl snuck out to play last night, caught her coming back home this morning. She's the only bait that will draw Sylar in. I'll fill you in on the rest of the details once you get here. No matter what happens, Sylar dies today."

"I'm on my way," Sylar returned with a wolf's smile. Time to spring the trap before it could tighten around his neck.

"Glad to hear it," Danko murmured into the dial tone. He looked around at the strike team, geared in their protective black suits. "He's coming. Get ready."


	25. Chapter 25: Bait and Switch

A/N: Edit :)

Chapter 25: Bait and Switch

Sylar peered at the numbers on the warehouses through his sunglasses until he found the right one. His mood cried out for thunderstorms but nature had decided on blue skies. Eventually he found the right warehouse, not only by the number but by the two plains clothes agents guarding the front. One of them was Agent Foster, and he curtly returned Sylar's nod. Foster had essentially become Danko's bodyguard in the days since their meeting in Danko's office. If he was here, then so was Danko.

"He's waiting for you in the back," Foster said, gesturing towards the dim reaches of the warehouse. Sylar's nerves jangled danger at him and he shied a moment, eyes sharp. Nothing presented itself, and Sylar shrugged the feeling away. The chaos of the past few days had unnerved him, and his instincts were not as dependable as they had once been.

Sylar continued into the warehouse, heading for the light he could see at the back of the large structure. Otherwise the lights were off, and the large crates and boxes that filled the space were lost in shadow. Something was not right here, and despite all of his rationalizations Sylar's skin continued to prickle in alarm. He turned to leave when a sharp pressure slammed into the side of his neck. Reaching up, he touched the end of a thick syringe before his eyes rolled up into his head and he fell bonelessly to the ground. As he fell, Talb's guise fell away and revealed Sylar's face.

Danko handed the trank gun to Foster who was standing behind him. The tranquilizer he'd shot into Sylar was powerful enough to bring down an elephant, and more than enough to kill a normal man. Not even Sylar's vaunted healing powers could keep him conscious. Nevertheless, Danko had taken no chances and geared up a large strike group as backup in case anything went wrong. They had been deployed in ambush positions encircling Sylar and came into view in response to Danko's signal. As the banks of fluorescent lights overhead began to flicker to life, Danko walked over to the unconscious Sylar. Danko stood gazing contemplatively at Sylar, tapping a railroad spike that he'd drawn out of his assault armour against his palm. After a long moment Danko knelt down and pushed Sylar over onto his face, pressed his knee into the small of Sylar's back and drove the spike into his kill switch.

"I told you that Sylar dies today," Danko murmured as he rose from Sylar's body. He looked up to Foster and the rest of the team. "Bag him and take him back to HQ. We need to burn the body to make sure he can't ever regenerate, but for now he's dead. I've got to get back to base, that Koehn woman from the DHS arrives soon. We wouldn't want her to miss the show."

Foster nodded and directed several of the agents to ready Sylar's body for transport as Danko made his way out of the warehouse. The bright autumn sun was blinding and Danko slid on his sunglasses. For a moment he stood basking in the warmth, mouth turned up. The smile stayed with him all the way back to Building 26.

Thankfully, Claire's bumpy ride in the trunk had not lasted long. With her hands shackled behind her, she couldn't stabilize herself and spent the entire trip rolling from one side of the trunk to the other. By the time Graham pulled her out she was thoroughly disoriented, and she staggered so much that he all but carried her along. Eventually he came to a stop and released her, but before she had time to try and run she heard a door open and felt his steely hand at her elbow again, pushing her forward. When he pulled the hood off she finally saw her captor, a tall black man with a stony face. Graham did not speak as he unshackled her, and his forbidding expression did not give her much hope that he would listen to anything she had to say. He gave her another push forward as he backed through the door, locking it behind him.

Claire stood on her toes to look through the reinforced window on the cell door to see Graham standing at guard in an otherwise featureless hallway. The cell itself was in was lit only by the hallway lights outside the window, but after a moment her eyes adjusted enough that she could see. A lone chair faced the opposite wall, facing a bank of industrial grade heaters. Hand and foot shackles extended from a bolt one the floor, lying empty on either side of the chair. Who this bizarre setup was meant to contain Claire couldn't imagine, but the heat from those radiating coils would have been torturous. Claire turned the chair so that it faced the door and waited.

It was several hours before the door opened again, revealing Danko's thin silhouette. Graham closed the door as Danko stepped inside, arms crossed across his chest. Claire rose to her feet and straightened her back, meeting his eyes squarely. She itched to scratch that smug expression of his face so much that her fingers curled.

"Let me go," Claire demanded flatly.

"I'm afraid I can't do that, you're far too valuable a prize for me to give up."

"What do you mean, a prize?"

"I'm after all of you specials eventually, but today I wanted Sylar, and having you got him for me."

"What do you mean?" Claire whispered, a sinking feeling of dismay filling her.

"When Lancelot came to rescue his lady fair I was waiting for him with elephant tranquilizer and a railroad spike. Sylar is quite dead."

"You're lying." It had to be some kind of trick, something to throw her off. A memory of Sylar's face, brown eyes lit by the sun rising over a lake during their road trip flashed through her mind. "You're lying."

"Believe what you want, it doesn't change anything," Danko retorted, a victorious smile once again curving his mouth.

"So why keep me then, if you – if you killed Sylar why do you need me?"

"Oh, I've got much bigger plans for you than just being bait. You see, very soon now Miranda Koehn from the DHS will arrive to perform an inspection of Building 26. Your father – the Petrelli father – has been extremely convincing, and the inspection is a only a formality. I'm going to make sure she is convinced that freaks like you are out there, and that you're a danger."

"How are you going to do that?" Claire's voice shook as she spoke, but she held her chin up and refused to give Danko the satisfaction of seeing the chaos and pain his news had brought.

"I'm going to shoot you, Claire Bennet. I'm going to shoot you in front of my whole staff, Koehn's staff, and the cameras I'll have set up. All I need you to do is to not die, and you're pretty good at that. Whatever you people do, delete memories, control computers - you won't be able to get to everybody, not all of them, not before they tell so many others that you can never find them all. The cameras are isolated from any system, and I'm betting that Rebel can't access them, at least not from outside Building 26."

Claire's face had paled and her eyes widened in horror as Danko spoke. "Why would you do all this? Why do you hate us so much?"

"Because I know what you people can do, I've seen it. You're a danger to all of us, and you need to be put down."

Claire had been aware of the gulf between those with abilities and normal people since she was fifteen years old. She had felt alienated and isolated by her abilities, and wished them gone so many times. Despite all this, no one she'd met had hated her, not for who she was but for what she was. Danko was different. He didn't see her as human, but as something other and he had no more regard for her feelings than he would a cockroach's. It was all there in his cold eyes and it chilled her to the bone.

"You are going to help me catch all the rest of you freaks and put them down. Permanently this time, no drugs, no stretchers, no vacillating over pointless morality. So thank you, Claire Bennet."

Claire charged at him, but he slammed the cell door between them. She fetched up hard against it and fell on her rear. Danko gave her a smug look through the wire-braced window on the cell door and she fingered him, and pretended to look scandalized before disappearing from her view.

As soon as he was gone, Claire's bravado broke. She had enough self-possession to crawl to the door and put her back against the door before she folded up, placing her face against her knees so that they couldn't hear her cry. Danko had to be lying, Sylar couldn't be dead. If he was, it would be her fault, and she couldn't bear that. He couldn't be dead.

Back at the warehouse, the agents were cleaning the scene to ensure that they left no trace of themselves. Two agents manhandled Sylar's long form into a body bag and started to move their burden towards the armoured van. Suddenly the two dropped the bag as they were propelled through the air by an invisible force. They struck the wall violently, but the body bag they had been holding did not fall to the ground. It hovered in the air for a moment before exploding into hundreds of fragments. Thus freed, Sylar turned himself so that he was hovering vertically in the air. Before the appalled eyes of the strike team assembled he reached behind him and pulled the spike from the back of his head.

"Ouch," he murmured, eyeing the bloody object. Throwing it aside, he turned his lambent eyes on the rest of the agents, and a smile of delighted cruelty spread across his face. Shouts rang out as the strike team shook themselves from their horrified gaping and moved to strike position.

These agents were not armed with taser rifles but with standard ammunition, and the old warehouse echoed with the sound of multiple guns firing at the same time. Sylar managed to sweep many of the projectiles from the air but more pounded into his flesh, staggering him. With a grunt Sylar seized three of the closest agents and threw them against several others running toward him. They fell in a pile of broken bones and pained moans. He looked to another man and mimed raising a gun and pulling the trigger. This is exactly what the stricken agent did, crying out as bullets from his gun slammed into several of his fellows. Sylar moved an invisible gun beneath his chin and again pulled the trigger. The agent fell over dead before the appalled eyes of their fellows, and they redoubled their attack.

Two men came up behind Sylar and threw a steelwoven noose over his head, choking him and pulling him almost off his feet. At the same time another agent reloaded the trank gun and took a shot at Sylar. Sylar stopped the dart in mid-air and diverted it to hit one of the men with the noose, who fell as if poleaxed. The other man suddenly went rigid and jerked violently as Sylar sent thousands of volts of electricity through the restraint. Sylar made a grasping gesture and the trank gun flew out of the man's hands, folded itself in half and viciously bludgeoned the agent until he fell.

The warehouse suddenly went black as an agent extinguished the lights. Well-trained, the rest of the agents immediately turned on their nightvision goggles, thinking to catch Sylar off-guard. Sylar just smiled widely in the dark and cupped his hands in front of him. Ball lightning burst from his palms, brighter than a flash bomb, and the agents screamed as they were blinded.

Sylar fought with relentless purpose, raking his hands through the air and growling as he struck down the agents. Here there was no confusion, no doubt as to who he was or what he was. He was a monster who brought death and ruin on the heads of his enemies and he did not stop until all of them were dead. Eventually Sylar stood alone, waiting for the next attack to come. Only the wreaths of blue lightning curling around him lit the bodies of the strike team, sprawled over the floor in pools of blood.

After he caught his breath, Sylar began picking through the bodies until he found Foster, who'd been broken in half backwards such that his nape rested against his heels. He patted the dead man down, looking for memory hits, eventually seeing one of Foster looking through a cell window at Claire while Danko and Graham conferred. When Sylar recognized the cell as one in Building 26 he hissed through his teeth. Danko had been so confident that he'd fooled Sylar that he brought her in under his nose, and the worst thing was that he was right.

Sylar walked out of the warehouse into the brilliant sunlight, wiping an errant spatter of blood from his cheek. The blood left a red line that resembled war paint, or perhaps a tiger's stripe. Danko had gone too far; he had lost his grip on the tiger's tail and now faced the tiger's fangs.


	26. Chapter 26: Owed Time

Chapter 26: Owed Time

With nothing better to do after Danko left, Claire crouched in the chair and watched the hands on her watch move. Fifty-two minutes passed before she heard an odd thump come from the hallway outside her door, as if something had struck the wall. She rose to her feet to investigate before the cell door opened, and a dark silhouette was framed in the doorway. Claire blinked in the sudden flash of light, which cut off abruptly as the figure slammed the door behind him. As her eyes adjusted, she saw that it was Graham.

"What do you want?" Claire drew herself up, her eyes snapping fire.

Graham's face tightened and without a word he strode towards her. A yelp escaped her despite herself as he pulled her to the corner of the room, out of sight of the window on the cell door. He leaned on the two walls, closing her between the corner and his arms. Graham's face and form rippled, and a moment later Sylar loomed over her.

"Sylar!" The surge of relief that swept over Claire was so intense that her knees buckled, and she grabbed his shoulders for support. "Danko said he killed you!"

For a moment Sylar's eyes closed, as he was stricken once again by the sense of freefall he felt whenever Claire was near. He forced it aside viciously and swept her hands from his shoulders, then grasped her wrists, his eyes narrowing to slits. There was a fierce intensity in his eyes she recognized all too well, the same as those mad eyes under the black baseball cap as he chased her through her high school.

"As if he could." Sylar's voice was cold and disdainful, as if the question was an insult to him.

He released her and spun away to prowl around the cell. Claire looked down at her wrists and watched the bruises he'd left on her with his tight grip fade. She kept her eyes on Sylar, trying to work out which face of Gabriel Gray she was dealing with. That look in his eyes when dropped Graham's facade had been a bizarre kaleidoscope of relief and resentment, and the air around him vibrated with menace.

"What's happened?"

Sylar squatted on his haunches to touch the shackles lying beside the chair, soaking in the pure fury Tracy Strauss had felt as she was bound before the cruel radiance of the heaters. Strauss had wanted nothing more than to break free and destroy every living thing in Building 26. Sylar could relate. But unlike her, he would not fail.

"Sylar, snap out of it! What's going on?"

Sylar looked up at her and cocked his eyebrow before rising to his full height. He stepped backwards into the shadows of the cell and they swallowed him. A horrible shiver ran down Claire's spine and she crossed her arms protectively over her chest. Everything he had said and done since he burst into her cell had reminded her of the day he'd stolen her power.

"Danko laid a trap for me and a pretty good one, I must admit. He shot me up with a tranquilizer before shoving a spike into the back of my head." Sylar was a dim figure moving restlessly around the perimeters of the room, as far away from her as he could get.

"So how are you alive?"

Sylar stepped into the light and smiled broadly. "I moved it."

"You what?"

"I moved the off switch – a nice side benefit of being able to scramble your DNA at will."

She was tempted to ask where, but she didn't think he would answer, and it wasn't important right now. He had barely looked at her this whole time, only that one intense gaze when he'd had her pressed into the corner, and her relief at seeing Sylar alive began to be overwhelmed by anger. First he showed up at her bedroom window in the middle of the night begging for help, then he chased her out of his apartment when she tried to help, and now he was reverting to his old psychotic self.

"You know, Angela was right about you," she said, her hands on her hips and her eyes narrowed.

He finally met her eyes, a frown furrowing his brow. "What do you mean?"

"You're like a child, you throw a tantrum when you don't get your way."

Sylar felt his temper rise and walked towards her, invading her space to glare down into her eyes. She didn't back off, instead she rose her chin and glared at him.

"I can get whatever I want, whenever I want it. Why would I have a tantrum?"

"You tell me. You've been pissed off ever since I told you that you're not really Sylar but Gab-"

"Don't call me that! Gabriel Gray is _dead_, he died the night he killed his mother, and he is never coming back!" They were nose to nose, their eyes drawing daggers.

Claire opened her mouth to retort before she recalled where they were. "Look, we don't have time for this, Danko is coming back any minute. What's your plan?" _But you better believe this isn't over, buddy_, she continued to herself.

"I'm going to blow a hole through the wall and kill anyone who tries to stop me." The one and only reason he hadn't directly attacked Danko and Building 26 in the first place was to eliminate Danko's opportunity to regain his hostage.

"That's your plan?" Claire exclaimed incredulously, to which he nodded assuredly. "You can't! Apart from the fact that it's _insane_, Danko said that a woman from DHS will be here soon, probably any minute now. If you start blowing down walls and killing people we'll never be able to keep our secret, and you'll give Danko exactly what he wants."

"I'm done with that. Danko dies today," Sylar smirked as he twisted Danko's words.

"And what, have the government out to find everyone of us? It'll be Coyote Sands all over again. Sooner or later people like us will stop hiding and start fighting back. It'll be war, and who knows how many innocent people will die!"

"Have you ever considered the idea that we are already at war? Admit it, Claire. They're afraid of us, and they are right to be." To emphasize his point Sylar gestured at the chair and it flew into the air, smashing to pieces as it struck the heaters. "They're afraid because they know we'll win."

"Not all of us can fight like you can! Micah can control machines but what will he do when a bunch of guys in assault gear burst through the door?"

"I could protect him!"

It was debatable whether Claire or Sylar was more surprised by his outburst. The incongruous image of Sylar in a Superman costume came to her, and despite everything she couldn't help but laugh. The sound echoed in the cell and once again brought her to the problem at hand. Her eyes widened when the solution to their problem suddenly came to her, proving once again that though she might not share Noah Bennet's DNA, she'd certainly inherited his ability to think on his feet.

"I know what to do."

"So do I, and I already know I like my plan more."

"Shut up. You still owe me, and I'm calling it in. Danko wants to shoot me in front of everybody in Building 26, to prove I'll heal and that we exist. We're going to let him do it."

"What are you talking about, Claire? You're not going to be able to play dead for long enough to convince anybody. When you sit up spitting out bullets its going to make it pretty obvious that people with abilities exist!"

"That's where you come in. You can shapeshift into one of Danko's guys and use your ability to shove something into my brain stem – something small, a pen maybe - when Danko shoots me. No matter how hard they look, I'll be dead, and Danko will be responsible for murdering me."

"I won't do it." Sylar's jaw was set.

"You know I'll come back to life when it comes out! Besides, I killed you once, consider it payback." She tried a smile, but his forbidding expression did not soften.

"I can shapeshift to look like you and do it myself then. I can't die either, in case you forgot."

"How will I get a spike into your head without everybody seeing it happen? You are the only one who can do it."

"I won't kill you, Claire!" He almost shouted it into her face, then took a deep shuddering breath. "There has to be another way."

"You know there isn't."

She was right, this was the best way. He'd said it himself, long ago in Costa Verde: _you can __never die_. He himself had survived a killswitch attack followed by the inferno that took Primatech and survived, she could take that and more and still regenerate. All these were facts, lined up behind his eyelids like watch gears, and yet the thought of actually doing what she wanted was repugnant to him.

All his fantasies of bloody revenge, so satisfying on the way to Claire's cell, were being defused by her arguments. The adrenaline rush he'd felt during and after the battle in the warehouse was fading, and the remembrance of the broken bodies on the floor did not leave him flush with power as killing always had. It just made him feel tired, far too tired to argue the conviction in Claire's eyes.

Sylar looked at her, this girl he loved. She was small and barefoot, with dirty toes peeking out the bottom of her yoga pants. She had no makeup on, and her hair was mussed and stood in all directions. Despite this, her eyes were fierce and her back was straight. She was perhaps the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Perhaps killing her was appropriate, as he'd killed every other beautiful thing in his life.

"I'll do it," he mumbled hoarsely.

"Good," she said in what she hoped was a firm voice, then cleared away the knot in her throat. "I'm counting on you."

Sylar had too much to say, so he just swallowed and nodded. Claire lifted up on her toes and kissed him, a soft brush of lips against his, then gone. She didn't know that she was going to do it until it was done. Sylar gasped and reared his head back as if he had been burned, and his eyes looked black in the dim light. Claire's hand flew to her lips and her cheeks burned with a blush. She had absolutely no idea why she'd kissed him, she had just felt an overwhelming need to call him out of whatever dark place he had gone.

Before he had time to react, Claire started pushing him towards the door. "Quick! You have to go before Danko comes back!"

Sylar shook his shock and her off and walked into the hallway. A moment later Agent Graham was telekinetically thrown into the cell. Claire gasped and covered her mouth with her hands when she saw that his neck had been broken like a twig and lolled on his shoulder. Sylar stepped into the doorframe, the light behind him shadowing his features. He pulled the air with his hand and the face of the heater panels ripped away from the wall. Graham's body levitated inside the cavity they left, and then Sylar forced the panels back into place with a sick crunch. Claire could not see his eyes, but she knew that they were focused on her during the entire act.

"You killed him," she moaned, and the shadowed head of his silhouette nodded.

"He's not the only person I've killed today," he said in his dark husky voice. Then the door between them slammed shut and once again, Claire was left to wait. Only this time she was left with the body of a murdered man. Left with the knowledge that her future, and the futures of every person with abilities, depended on the murderer. She buried her head in her knees and trembled like a leaf in an autumn storm.


	27. Chapter 27: The Fog of War

Chapter 27: The Fog of War

Margaret Koehn was unhappy.

She had been sent to Building 26 in order to gain first hand knowledge of Danko's operation. Building 26 had been given an unsettling level of autonomy due to the semi-hysterical report filed by Abby Collins, but when she was interviewed Collins could not recall what had provoked the tenor of that report. No one seemed to know what exactly it was that Building 26 did, only that they investigated persons considered a threat to the United States. What kind of threat those persons posed was a mystery, and now that Nathan Petrelli had removed his support from the project, the President wanted some answers.

All of that placed Koehn in the CIC area of Building 26, tapping her toe in impatience. The entire staff of Building 26, up to and including the gate guards, was packed into the room, but they only knew that they had been ordered to come, not why. Danko himself was unfashionably late. On the phone, Danko had assured her that everything would be explained as soon as she arrived, yet here she waited, becoming increasingly unhappy.

Eventually the door opened and a tall black man walked in, followed by Danko. Danko was dragging a struggling young blonde woman behind him, his fist tangled in her hair. Her hands were once again manacled, and muffled shrieks penetrated the piece of duct tape covered her mouth. Danko effortlessly restrained her efforts to break free, and her eyes spit poison at him and everyone in the room.

"What is this?" Koehn asked, her red eyebrows disappearing into her fashionable fringe. She was about Claire's father's age, and she wore a dark pantsuit that set off her pale skin and blue eyes.

"This is the proof I promised you," Danko replied as he came to a stop in front of her.

"Is that supposed to be a joke? What are you doing with this girl?"

"I'm telling you that there are people with dangerous abilities out there. Some of them can fly, some can change their shape, they can control computers and erase people's memories-"

"Do you know that you sound like a madman?" Koehn interrupted sharply..

"These people are _real_ and they are dangerous." As he spoke, Danko looked around at the gathered crowd. In a corner of the room, several cameras were set up on tripods, their black eyes focused on Danko. The man behind them returned Danko's questioning look with a nod, indicating that the cameras were recording.

Danko ripped the duct tape gag from the girl's mouth and she spat the nasty glue taste at him. He wiped the spittle from his cheek with the back of hand, but his face remained tight and expressionless. Only his eyes betrayed his fury.

"Tell Ms. Koehn your name," he ordered, giving her a shake that threw her blonde hair over her face. She blew it off her face with another deadly glare for Danko, before looking up at the woman standing over her.

"I'm Claire Bennet," she said, ignoring Danko. "This guy is crazy, you have make him let me go!"

"Tell her what you can do, what your ability is," Danko continued, adding yet another shake. Sylar's eyes in Graham's form narrowed, and every time Danko shook Claire he earned that much more a painful death.

"I don't know what you're talking about! Let me go!" The fear in Claire's eyes was not entirely false. She didn't know what was worse, that her plan would fail and specials would be outed, or that it would work and Sylar would do the one thing that could kill her for good. Her eyes sought Sylar's, wishing she saw his own glinting depths and not the light brown of Graham's, but she felt a little comforted nonetheless.

"She looks normal enough, doesn't she? Just a teenaged girl, like any other. But she's not, she's one of them. One of the people with abilities, and I can prove it." Danko looked into Claire's eyes for a moment, and his eyes burned with a fanatical fire. Suddenly he pulled his gun from the holster under his arm and shot her in the chest. Once, then again and again. Claire gasped as her breath was taken, coughing blood. The gunshots then those choked gasps were the only sounds in the room for a few moments, as Danko's audience watched the events in disbelief.

Claire felt no pain as the bullets tore into her, and could immediately feel her body beginning to slow her blood loss and regenerate. _Do it_, she mouthed to Sylar. Graham's full lips tightened and he made a pinching motion with his fingers. Claire's eyes rolled up and her body became as limp as a dolls, and she fell bonelessly to the floor. Sylar would do as she asked, but he would not trust her life to some random object but held the nerve bundle that controlled her regenerative abilities closed with telekinesis. It was a precise and difficult task, and took up nearly all of his concentration, , but it had the advantage of being imperceptible from the outside.

Danko watched Claire fall with an expectant smile on his lips. She lay still and quiet, bloody foam on her lips and her green eyes open and staring blindly. The crowd stared at the quite obviously dead girl in open-mouthed shock before all eyes turned accusingly to Danko. His agents had always been extraordinarily loyal to him, but this was a bridge too far.

"What the hell have you done?" Koehn exploded, breaking the breathless silence.

Danko's smile did not waver as he replied, "She's faking. She can heal, you'll see, she'll be fine in a minute."

Koehn walked to the fallen girl and touched her hand to Claire's neck, checking for a pulse, while her other hand hovered over Claire's mouth and nose. After a moment she looked up at Danko, her eyes blazing.

"No heartbeat, no respiration. This girl is _dead_, Danko."

Danko pushed impatiently by her, flipping Claire onto her back and parting the golden hair on her nape to look for a foreign object. The skin was unblemished, not matter where he tugged and twisted her hair. Koehn stood and looked down at Danko in sick disbelief. The man was crouched over Claire, the knees on either side of her torso dyed red with her blood. Danko's eyes were wild, and Claire's face banged repeatedly into the floor as Danko performed his crazed inspection of her neck.

"She'll get up!" Danko's voice was near a hysterical scream.

But Koehn had had enough. "I want this man taken into custody for murder, and for God's sake get him off that girl!"

Like any crowd that had collectively been given an order, they looked around at one another to see which individual would end up obeying it. The pause gave Danko an opportunity to fire several bullets into the ceiling. While screams rang out as people avoid the falling debris, Danko seized a young intern by the arm and threw her bodily into the man standing behind her, giving him the escape route he needed. Before anyone could react, he ran from the room and accelerated down the hallway.

Sylar watched him go with death in his eyes, but made no move to stop him. The task of maintaining such a delicate hold required far more concentration than throwing a truck, and that combined with the effort of holding Graham's shape sorely taxed his abilities. Even if he had the resources to keep Danko from escaping, doing so would make Claire's entire plan fall apart. Sylar knew she would heal, after all, he had done far more damage to her himself. He knew that she could never die, neither of them could ever die. This in no way calmed the rage blasting through him, and the air in the room suddenly filled with static electricity and the smell of ozone.

"Get those security doors down!" Koehn shouted, and this time agents, finally responding to their training, snapped to obey. "Stop him before he can get out of the building!"

Agent Cameron ran to the security console and cursed when she saw that the monitors showed static instead of hallways. She jammed a few buttons on the console, but got no response. "Ma'am!" She called out, and Koehn hustled over to her. Cameron gestured at the static. "Danko's completely disabled the security systems. Communications are down and the emergency doors won't close."

Kohen looked around at the room, still packed with the entire staff of Building 26. "And since the bastard brought everybody in here, there's no one ahead of him." Cameron nodded grimly in response.

Both women's eyes were drawn to Claire's still form on the floor. Koehn had a daughter about the same age as Claire, and she couldn't help seeing her daughter's face painted over Claire's. _By God, _she thought, _Danko will pay for this_. The determination and fire that had pushed her so far in a field that was definitely still a boy's club would accept nothing less than the man's head on a platter.

"Somebody get that poor girl out of here," Koehn snapped, and the tall black man who had preceded Danko immediately stepped forward.

"I'll take her to the morgue, ma'am," the man said, and Koehn nodded.

Graham knelt down beside Claire and gently closed her eyes, then pulled her up into his arms, heedless of her blood on his crisp white shirt. He lifted her easily, and even tucked her head into his shoulder rather than let it loll on her neck as he carried her out of the room. Koehn noted the courtesy appreciatively. This young woman deserved better than what she had gotten here today. The rest of the crowd milled around uncertainly and Koehn eyed them, her hands on her hips.

"Well? What the hell are you waiting for? I want Danko, so get after him!"


	28. Chapter 28: Meanwhile

A/N: Ok, I don't usually use this space as a blog, but I have to address something for the sake of the next few chapters. All sorts of stupid shit happened in the second season, and usually when the topic is brought up I just close my eyes and hum real loud. All the stuff with Sylar in the second season was _awesome_, but feudal Japan? Ireland? And why did the virus make Sylar lose all of the powers he'd learned _except_ his telekinesis, which is the first thing he uses when he gets his power back? Bitch, please. The absolute worst idea was that somehow Adam Munroe's, Claire's - and therefore Sylar's - blood can heal people. Their blood is just blood. You could take a bath in Claire's blood as long as you had a knife handy, and she'd be just fine. Pissed at you, probably, but fine. The reason she'd be alive is that her power regenerates her blood. No one would have panicked about Sylar slitting Nathan's throat at the end of the third season, because all Claire has to do is open a vein and hey presto, we have an alive Nathan. Their _power_ is what heals them, and it has nothing to do with their blood! So in my story, there is no "get out of death free" card.

*_pant pant_*

All right, I'm done now. Hope you enjoy the chapter!

* * *

Chapter 28: Meanwhile...

Angela Petrelli had, like Claire and Sylar, had a long night. At about the same time that Sylar tapped on Claire's bedroom window, Angela pulled herself out of a nightmare vision. The experience of many such dreams instinctively rose her clenched her fist to her mouth, muffling her scream.

There was no grogginess, no long gentle pull from sleep to waking. Angela pulled her covers aside and moved with brisk purpose. Her choice in clothing was a departure from her normal well tailored pencil skirts and expensive heels. Today she dressed in slacks, sturdy boots and the black leather jacket she'd worn last at Coyote Sands. Her habitual inspection of herself in the mirror as she called to book tickets on the earliest flight to D.C. revealed a woman who did not look her years, but she most certainly felt them. The fear and screaming urgency she felt were well hidden by her composed mask, but her eyes gave her away. Usually as hard and faceted as emeralds, now they were almost glowing with desperate intensity.

The flight from LaGuardia airport to D.C. was uneventful, and she arrived around the same time that Claire ran from Sylar's apartment and into Danko's grasp. The taxi driver was from India, and spoke broken English. She sat in the back seat and looked out the window while he listened to a sermon in Hindi.

The taxi dropped Angela off at a small apartment building in one of the less savory neighborhoods in Washington. She examined the buzzer panel in the foyer only cursorily before firmly pressing one of the call buttons. Knowing the occupant would not respond to the first call, nor the second, she implacably carried on, pressing that white button. It was a battle of wills, and Angela Petrelli had lost few of those. Eventually the intercom speaker crackled to life.

"Who is it?" The voice was male, but impossible to recognize over the loud static and abrasive feedback.

"Angela Petrelli."

There was no response to this for a long time, which Angela waited out with a patience that was becoming unendurable. Finally there was a buzz from the glass doors as the lock was released. Angela did not read the number signs on the apartments she passed as she strode down the paisley carpeted hallways but headed straight towards a particular door, her steps sure and smooth, as if she'd walked this path a thousand times.

Angela knocked briskly on the apartment door that was her destination. The door had not fully opened when Angela pushed her way into the darkened apartment and closed the door firmly behind her. She thumbed the light switch and turned to the man who had opened the door.

Without greeting or salutation she said, "I need your help, Parkman."

* * *

On the Island, Peter left Noah and walked into the next room first tried to call Nathan and tell him of Claire's abduction, but he got Nathan's voice mail, which didn't surprise him as senators were usually occupied on Thursday mornings. Peter left a message, then called his mother.

"Hello, Peter," his mother's cool voice greeted him. "Is Noah with you?"

"Yeah, he is, but I called to tell you that Danko has kidnapped Claire!"

"I know, dear."

Peter choked on a word he did not want his mother to hear him say and pulled the phone away from his ear. Some days it was really not easy to be Angela Petrelli's son. After several heartbeats he drew a deep breath and brought the phone back to his mouth.

"What's going on, Mom? Did you have another dream?"

A long silence passed before she said, "Yes. Just get here, Peter. We'll meet you at Noah's apartment." Before Peter could ask what she meant by "we," the line went dead. Peter felt a chill run through him at the fear in his mother's voice, and he wondered uneasily what she had dreamed that had broken her composure so thoroughly.

Walking back into the room where he'd left Noah, he caught the tail end of Noah's conversation. Noah looked up at him as he entered and held up one finger to indicate that he needed a moment as he listened to the voice on the other end of the phone.

"Yeah, he's a great kid, he just shouldn't be alone right now." A few more moments of listening. "He knows you're coming, he'll be waiting. Thanks again, Sandra, I really appreciate it." More listening, more heartbreaking pain drifting across Noah's face that stung Peter's empathic senses with its bitterness. "Talk to you soon."

Noah closed the phone, the emotion draining from his face, and turned his sharp gaze on Peter.

"Well?" The Company Man asked, his cool mask back in place.

"I couldn't get a hold of Nathan. I left a message but he could be in meetings all day." Noah nodded, he hadn't expected anything different. "Get this, though," Peter continued, brushing his fingers through his unruly black hair. "Mom's already in Washington, and she wants us to meet you in your apartment as soon as we can get there."

Noah took this with equanimity, having known Angela Petrelli for a very long time and being well used to her constantly showing up where she should not be. "Are you going to be able to fly carrying me all the way to D.C.?"

Peter cleared his throat uncomfortably and Noah shot him an appalled look. "You don't have flying anymore, do you?"

"I took Rene's power before he went back Haiti. That way we would be able to keep up with taking people's memories."

Rene had gotten a lead on some friends that had been missing since the quake, and had headed back to his homeland immediately. Peter taking the Haitians power was a smart play, but given the circumstances maddeningly inconvenient.

"It takes two and a half hours to get to D.C. from Penn Station. If we hurry we ought to be able to make the next train," Noah said with a glance at his watch, and the two men quickly put his plan into action.

* * *

It was around an hour after Sylar carried a seemingly dead Claire Bennet out of the CIC that Nathan finally escaped an interminably long Senate hearing. As always, his first action upon clearing the room was to check his messages.

"Nathan, Danko has taken Claire, we don't know where, he wants to trade her for Sylar. As soon as you get this you need to come and meet up with us at Noah's apartment."

Nathan checked his Rolex and saw that Peter had left the message several hours before. He picked up his stride and entered his office at high speed, nodding tersely at his aide. She had her neck crooked around the phone, and smiled brightly as her boss came through.

"Oh, good timing, Senator. Liam Samuels is on the phone for you."

"The President's Chief of Staff?" Nathan exclaimed rhetorically, and she nodded. Worry for Claire burned in his chest like fire, but one did not shrug off the President's Chief of Staff when he made a call.

"I'll take it in my office. And Lydia? Clear my schedule for the rest of the day."

"But you have that -"

"Can't be helped. Tender my apologies."

Nathan walked behind his desk, took a steadying breath, and picked up his desk phone.

"Liam! Nathan here."

"Nathan, always a pleasure. Listen, I'll get right to it. The President needs to meet with you today."

Nathan rolled his eyes skyward and wondered why it was always him. "Can I ask what brought this on?"

"There's been an incident at Building 26."

"What kind of an incident are we talking about here?" Sick fear crowded Nathan's mind and he hoped it didn't have anything to do with Claire. He knew it was a vain hope, because any time there was a major catastrophe going on chances were that Claire was mixed up in it.

"Danko shot a girl - right in front of Koehn and every person in the entire _building_ - and escaped."

Nathan sagged forward, bracing his free hand on the top of the desk. Claire could heal, but Danko knew it. "That bastard," he growled.

"You said it. The President will fill in the details, but the upshot is that he wants to shut down Building 26, and he wants you to do it."

Nathan was gripped by a searing conflict. There was nothing he wanted to do more than to go find out what had happened to Claire, but at the end of the day he had to put logic before emotion. Peter, Noah, his mother, even Sylar would be bent on rescuing Claire, but none of them could meet with the President and end this whole thing.

"Liam, I serve at the pleasure of the President. When and where?"

"He's at the Stanton for a diplomatic event, and he'd like you to meet him there as soon as is convenient." Liam's tone clearly suggested that if the time was convenient for the President of the United States, it had better be convenient for the junior Senator from New York.

No choice. "I'll be there right away."

* * *

It was not quite five minutes between the time that Noah and Peter arrived at his apartment, door when he heard a knocking at his front door. He didn't wonder who it was, Angela Petrelli always had excellent timing. He opened the door to let her in with a gracious bow, and she gave him a tight, unamused smile.

Peter met them in the kitchen with a warm hug for his mother. It was around that time that Noah noticed that Matt Parkman had followed Angela in, that he'd been there the whole time.

"Well, I'll be damned, she topped herself," Noah murmured at exactly the same time that Peter exclaimed, "We thought you were dead!"

"Yeah, well let's just say rumours of my demise have been greatly exaggerated," Matt returned. He had a bandage on his left arm, its bulk clearly visible beneath the fabric of his shirt sleeve, but otherwise seemed unharmed.

"Neat trick, shielding yourself like that, did you just make it so we don't notice you?" Noah asked, eternally curious about the abilities of the people he worked with.

"Something like that."

"Did you do that to Danko, to make him believe he'd killed you?"

"Yeah, that sneaky bastard thought that if he took me out at sniper range – he was half a mile away – that I wouldn't be able to read what he was about to do. He was nearly right," Matt gestured at the bandage around his arm. "I managed to implant a memory of him getting a headshot on me, and he didn't stick around long enough to find out any different."

"Do you want me to take a look at it, Matt?" Peter asked. It had been days since the shooting, if Parkman hadn't been taking care of it properly there could be problems with infection.

"No, I went to the hospital. I managed to get far enough out of the way that it went through my arm instead of my head, but it missed the bone so I should be okay."

"They report gunshot wounds," Peter returned. Then the light went on. "But not if they don't _think_ it's a gunshot wound."

Matt nodded with a glimmer of his mischievous smile.

"Alright, that explains how you lived through Danko's attempt on your life, but why are you still here in Washington?" Noah asked. "I would have thought you'd go home to your family."

"Two things. One, I got _shot_ two days ago, and that kinda slowed me down. Two, I'm going to shut Danko down, for good this time."

"Fair enough. I think we might have that in common." To say that Matt Parkman and Noah Bennet had a complicated history was an understatement, but Matt did respect Noah's ability to get the job done. Matt considered the idea of working with Bennet and company for a moment, then met Noah's eyes and nodded. Noah couldn't keep a relieved smile from his face. Matt was the most powerful telepath he'd encountered in twenty years of working with specials, and they needed all the help they could get.

At that moment, Peter's cell phone chirped and he looked down at the call display. "It's Nathan."

"Nathan? Your brother Nathan, who rounded us all up and started this mess in the first place?Why the hell are you talking to him?"

"He's on our side now."

"Oh, great, because that always works out so well."

Noah had time to wonder if Angela had told Matt that they were also working with Sylar before Peter gave Matt a quelling look and walked into the living room to take the call. Noah busied himself by making a pot of coffee for his guests, but stopped abruptly when they heard Peter shout, "He what?"

Everyone followed Peter into the living room and stared at him as if eye contact could let them hear his conversation. Peter turned his back on them, his free hand on his ear, listening to his brother. Whatever the eldest Petrelli brother had to say, it didn't take long. Moments later Peter ended the call and turned back to the group.

"Danko shot a girl in Building 26 today. Nathan thinks it's probably Claire."

Noah felt his heart stop beating. "Is she all right?" he croaked.

"He doesn't know, but he does know that Danko managed to get away. I guess it was the last straw because the President wants to meet with Nathan today to discuss shutting down Building 26 permanently." Peter took in Noah's fear-paled face, an echo of the dread he'd heard in Nathan's voice and in his own heart. "She's fine, Noah. Worse things have happened to her than a bullet."

_Probably_, both Noah and Peter said to themselves, the anxiety in the thought so strong that Matt couldn't help but pick it up. Matt shook his head distractedly; since pulling that trick on Danko it was getting harder to block out people's thoughts, as if his ability had somehow strengthened. He'd been hiding out in that apartment as much to regain control as to recuperate from his wound.

"So, Nathan's going to meet with the President today, did he say where?"

"The Stanton Hotel."

"What about Danko?" Matt interjected impatiently. "What are we going to do about him?"

"Danko is not just going to let this go." Once again, that steel mask had come down over Noah's face, and his voice was cool and collected.

"I want to catch that son of a bitch too, but he's one man. We catch him, or the government does," Peter replied confidently. "What is he going to do, fight the whole government? The President is shutting down Building 26, and that's the end of it,"

A sick feeling of dread pushed its way into Noah's gut as he talked as a suspicion began to rise. He looked at Matt and Peter and saw the same terrible thought crossing their minds.

"No, he wouldn't. Not even Danko is crazy enough to try to kill the President," Matt argued.

"Oh, he's crazy enough." The trio of men spun towards the deck at the sound of Claire's voice. Sylar's tall form loomed just behind her, and both were covered in blood. "Trust me."


	29. Chapter 29: Sacrifices

Chapter 29: Sacrifices

Claire drew in a sharp gasp as she lurched from death to waking, coughing up a mixture of blood and bullets. The speed of the transformation from death to life was near instantaneous and overwhelming. She felt no pain, so nothing distracted her from the sensation of bones growing, muscle rebuilding, and arteries sealing their gaps. Her eyes, dulled by the film of death, blinked rapidly then focused.

"Welcome back," Sylar said, his dark eyes serious. He'd lain her down on a deserted parkade rooftop, then released his hold on the nerve bundle that composed her kill switch.

Ignoring Sylar for the moment, Claire looked around rapidly to get her bearings. It was still only early afternoon, though Claire felt that this day had already lasted several months. The sun had heated up the blacktop she sat on and the sky was a hard blue, with no sign of clouds anywhere on the horizon.

Claire rose to her feet, shook some of the blood of her shirt and stuck her finger through one of the bullet holes with an irritated sigh. Finally, she turned her green gaze back to Sylar, who had also risen to his feet. Her blood coated his shirt and glistened red on his neck, but he'd grown accustomed to blood long since and seemed untroubled. His expression was impossible to read, but to her experienced eye he did not look like a current inhabitant of crazy town.

"Did it work?" Claire's question was abrupt, but not unfriendly. They definitely needed to talk – probably at volume – but there was no time for it now.

"Do you want the good news, or the bad news?"

"Spare me the humour, did it work or not?"

"Koehn was definitely convinced, but Danko managed to escape."

"How the hell did he manage that? We were in a room full of federal agents!" Claire exclaimed incredulously.

"He is very capable. I could have caught him, but given that you'd just taken a bullet to preserve our secret, I let him go. For now." Sylar had said that Danko would die today, and his tone implied that his mind had not been changed on that issue.

Claire accepted that with a nod, she was not in the mood to defend Emil Danko from Sylar. "We have to get back to my Dad's place, change clothes and figure what to do next."

"Agreed." Sylar moved toward her, but just before he could pick her up she took a half-step backwards.

"You did a good thing in there, you know. People like us will be safe from people like Danko." Claire's eyes were steady on his.

Sylar was not used to praise. Even before he'd become a killer, there had been few compliments. His mother's empty headed platitudes had never acknowledged what he had done and what he was, but what he had yet to do and could become. Claire's words made him feel slightly embarrassed, almost bashful. To hide it, he took her in his arms and pressed her head against his shoulder, breathing in the smell of her hair. Even the rank stink of the blood drying on their bodies could not hide it.

"Thank you," he said softly, and pressed against his chest Claire could feel the vibration of his deep voice thrum through her. She reached up her arms and wrapped them around his neck as he lifted them into the sky.

* * *

"Claire!" Noah and Peter exclaimed in one breath, and Claire hastened to them to receive her hugs. She wrapped her arms around her father's broad chest and breathed in that familiar Old Spice aftershave, allowing herself a moment of paternal comfort. When she pulled away from him, she met her grandmother's eyes and leaned in for a kiss on the cheek.

"What the _hell_ is he doing here!" Matt's eyes were deadly cold as he regarded Sylar.

"I could ask the same of you, weren't you dead?" Sylar's taunting tone was designed to irritate Parkman, and succeeded.

Claire stepped away from her father's hold and interceded with a quelling glance at Sylar before she turned her dimpled smile on Matt. He always reminded her of one of her teddy bears and gave him a squeeze.

"I don't know how it's possible, but it sure is good to see you, Matt," she smiled, and he dropped her a wink, a little of the twinkle in his eye restored. Considering that he had invaded her home and shot her the day they met, they got on very well.

"It's good to see you, too, but that still doesn't answer my question." Matt returned his hostile glare to Sylar.

"Haven't you heard, Parkman? I'm one of the good guys now," Sylar drawled.

Matt snorted disbelievingly, but refused to respond to Sylar directly. "You don't actually believe you can trust this guy, do you?" The question was directed at Noah, a trusted ally in this issue if in no other.

"About as far as I can throw him," Noah replied, the light flashing off his glasses as he tipped his head toward the erstwhile villain. "But he has been...helpful in all this," he finished with a certain amount of ill grace.

"Stop it," Claire snapped, and Matt's eyes snapped to her in astonishment. Claire Bennet had grown up a lot since the day they'd met, and not just physically. That command had the ring of unquestioned authority to it.

"We don't have time for this," Claire continued, "we have to find Danko. I'm telling you, he's lost his mind in this freakish paranoia about people like us, and he will stop at nothing to make sure he gets his way."

"Even if we're sure he's trying to assassinate the President, how could he even get to him? You know how tight security is, they'll have that whole hotel locked down." Peter was, as was his habit, pacing, his hands helping him talk.

"Do not underestimate him, Peter," Noah warned. "He has been getting into places he should not be his entire life. He could disappear now and be gone for good, but I think he'll do whatever it takes to stop Building 26 from being shut down."

Angela Petrelli had watched all of this, a silent witness. She had said only as much as was absolutely necessary to Matt after finding him, despite his repeated, and increasingly frustrated, questions. Many times in her past she had tried to force the events she saw in her visions, or force a change to them, and nearly every time the results had been catastrophic. In this, she'd learned to favour a scalpel over an axe. The seer had drawn in a deep relieved breath at the arrival of Claire and Sylar. So far everything was going the way she'd hoped. When she finally broke her long silence everyone startled.

"Whatever we do, we have to do it fast. Danko is going to the Stanton and time is running out." The absolute desperate truth of this rang out in her voice drew her son's eyebrows together. Once again, Angela was holding her cards close to her chest and her tone suggested she would offer no further information.

"You two," Noah gestured at the by now sticky and aromatic Building 26 escapees, "need to go clean up, and then we need to get to the Stanton."

"What are we supposed to do when we get there?" Matt asked. We have no identification, no credentials – they won't have any reason to let us in,"

"We should split up. Peter, Matt and I -"

"Matt's coming with me," Angela said with iron finality.

"What? Why?" Matt was clearly not thrilled about the idea of spending more time in Angela Petrelli's company.

"I can't explain it right now, but you need to stay with me." Angela replied, and that was clearly all she was going to say on the subject.

Noah hadn't been planning to bring Angela along at all, and like everyone else he wondered what she was up to. He'd wanted Matt to get them by security, but since Peter could use the Haitian's power to get around it, it was only a minor inconvenience. It was pointless to ask Angela why it was so important that she stay near Matt, he knew that, but he wondered just the same. "Okay, Peter and I will go in the back to see if we can find Danko."

Noah looked consideringly at his daughter, wondering what the chances were that she would obey an order directing her to stay at home and out of trouble. Given her expression of steely expectation, he decided that the attempt would be futile. Claire was going to be a part of this, whether he liked it or not.

"Sylar is going to shift into Nathan's body and then you two can go right through the front door. With luck Nathan is already in there, and you can invent some excuse about fetching your daughter so that she could meet the President. You find Nathan, and tell him what's going on." _And stay out of trouble._

Noah leaned his hands on the kitchen table and looked around at the group, meeting each pair of eyes with his steady gaze. "No matter happens, we have to find Danko before he can get to the President." When he received a nod from everyone, he straightened. "Let's get moving."

* * *

Sylar and Claire walked into the fabulous foyer of the Stanton Hotel, and Claire's small town Texas eyes widened at the luxury of it. The space was filled with people buzzing hurriedly back and forth, like so many bees in a hive. The hallway leading towards a bank of elevators was blocked off by a formidable security checkpoint. Large men in black suits and radios tucked into their ears watched the crowd with sharp eyes. Claire balked for a moment, intimidated by the checkpoint and guards, absolutely positive that they could never get through, but Sylar's pace remained unchanged and his hand on her elbow pulled her along in his wake. His gait mimicked Nathan's smooth confident stride to perfection.

The secret service agents clearly recognized Nathan on sight and waved him through, though one of them dipped his head to speak into the transmitter on his wrist. A tall man in an expensive suit with curiousity written on his face approached.

"Nathan!" He exclaimed as he shook hands with the not-Senator. "I thought you were already through security."

"Hello...Liam," Sylar returned after a quick psychometric check of the man's identity. "I'd like to introduce you to my daughter Claire. Claire this is Liam..." Sylar trailed off uncertainly, he'd not discovered Liam's last name in the brief contact.

"Liam Samuels, the President's Chief of Staff," Claire finished for him as she shook the hand Liam proffered. At Sylar's startled look she shrugged and said, "I live in America."

"Anyway," Sylar continued with a Nathan Petrelli grin, "Claire came to D.C. unexpectedly, and I cam down here to collect her. I'd like to introduce her to the President."

That Nathan Petrelli had a teenaged daughter came as news to Liam, but he had no reason to doubt him.

"I can't see any reason why not. It's very nice to meet you, Miss Petrelli," Liam returned as he reached out his hand to Claire.

Given the circumstances, Claire did not believe that it would be a good idea to correct him. Instead she took Liam's hand and gave him her most brilliant smile. She had been a woman long enough to know that she usually didn't have to do any more than that to affect most men. It didn't fail this time, and Sylar felt a bolt of jealousy strike him at the bemused smile that crossed Liam's face.

"Great, thanks Liam. I guess we'll be heading up now," Sylar said, moving himself between Liam and Claire. Liam's pocket had just chimed and he shot them a distracted smile and wave as he read whatever text had just come through on his phone.

Sylar took Claire's hand and tucked it into his arm, a very Nathan Petrelli action. Claire couldn't help but be impressed by Sylar's acting talents, if she didn't know better she would have had no suspicion that he was not who he appeared to be. The elevator was crowded and pushed Claire and he closer together. The elevator chimed each floor, and people exited the elevator as it was pulled steadily upward, until only Claire and Sylar were left. Even then, they stood in silence, but she did not remove her hand from his arm and he could not bear to move further away from her.

Just before the elevator chimed its final floor, Claire looked up at him and said, "I'm glad you're here." Her eyes were warm, and he knew she spoke the truth even without his ability.

Sylar almost broke down right there, almost told her he loved her, almost took her in his arms and kissed her until she believed him. Almost ruined her life. Once he had wanted to drag her down to his level, to make her like him, just so that he would not feel so lonely. He had changed since then. Perhaps in a hundred years, two hundred years, longer, he might deserve her, but he doubted it. She was too bright a creature for him, and he would not cast his shadow on her. So instead, he choked on his heart and only nodded. Then he pulled her through the open doors of the elevator and down the hallway.

Nathan opened the door with his toothy smile, a smile that instantaneously transformed itself into a snarl when he saw who stood in the threshold.

"Get out of my body," Nathan growled at his doppelganger, and Sylar couldn't help but smile tauntingly before shifting back to his own form.

"Claire, what the hell -" Nathan began, but Claire interrupted him.

"Danko is here, he's in the building. He wants to assassinate the President," Claire said, the words coming out in a rush.

Nathan's jaw dropped as his eyes widened, but Sylar didn't have time to hang around and enjoy the sight of the usually tightly controlled Petrelli losing his composure.

"Claire, you should stay with your father and explain. I'm going to go find Danko before he can do anything."

"Absolutely she should stay here!" Nathan exclaimed, but Claire ignored him and stared into Sylar's eyes, her jaw set mutinously.

"It will be easier for me to find Danko on my own." It was simple, bare truth, and it stung like a bitch, but Claire could not refute it. Eventually the line of her mouth relaxed from mulishness to resignation.

"Fine." Claire managed a weak smile. "I guess I'm meeting the President after all."

Sylar smiled back and the sight of it startled Nathan. It was not a shuttered smile, a reflection of cruelty and madness, but a bright flashing thing that softened Sylar's dark eyes. He almost looked like someone else.

Sylar spontaneously reached out and took a lock of Claire's hair in his hand, letting it slide through his open fingers. Nathan cleared his throat loudly and Sylar pulled his hand away with a start. A little of the hardness returned to Sylar's face and without another word he strode from the room, still wearing his own face.

The door had no sooner closed behind him before Nathan made his way over to Claire and seized her by the elbow, turning her to face him.

"What is going on, Claire?"

Claire sighed heavily, her eyes still on the closed door. Finally she turned to her father and quickly ran through the events of their day.

"What do you think?" Claire asked when her story was finished.

"It doesn't make sense that he would want to kill the President. I mean, what good would that do? Everyone saw him kill you, right? If no one believes him, it doesn't matter who the President is. Building 26 will still be shut down, nothing will change."

"I know that." The voice came from behind them, and both of them spun to see Danko coming through the bathroom door, his gun in hand. "I'm not trying to kill the President."

* * *

"So why did you want me with you, Angela?"

Angela and Matt stood in the foyer of the expensive hotel. Busy people swerved around the pair without seeing them, courtesy of Matt's shield. He wasn't sure how he'd grown it to include Angela, but then he did a lot of things with his power that he didn't understand and did by instinct.

"Why don't you read my mind and find out?" Angela shot back, ignoring his irritated glance. She'd long since found ways to keep intrusive telepaths out of her head, and had already proved it to Matt.

"Just answer the question," Matt growled. "Give me one reason I shouldn't leave you right here."

Angela sought a way to lie, to keep her secrets, but she knew that she was in danger of losing control of the situation and she couldn't take the risk that she would be separated from Matt. That left truth as the only option. "You are the only one who can find Danko before he destroys everything. My dream – it showed me chaos, destruction – the death of everything I love, the death of my sons."

Matt did not trust Angela, but the agony in her voice could not be feigned. "What will happen? Is it because Danko manages to kill the President?"

"I don't know!" Angela's voice broke with the strain. "I only know that Danko is here, somewhere in this hotel, and if you and I don't find him something terrible will happen. Something – unbearable. We have to stop him."

"Why not just stay with Peter and Noah then? Safety in num-"

The violent head shaking interrupted him, and the chaos in her green eyes had only intensified. "No! In my dream you and I staying together was the only way to change – whatever will happen."

Matt remembered the confusing spin of the prophetic painting ability the African had somehow given him, a swirl of visions and feelings almost impossible to discern. At least that power left a physical manifestation of the vision, an image caught in paint or pencil. Her dreams lived only in her mind, with no image to anchor her. The thought chilled him, and he was grateful he would never have to experience that.

"Alright. I believe you – or at least that you believe. What do you want me to do?"

"Danko is in this building somewhere, and he has death in his heart. You have to find him before he can act."

"How am I supposed to do that? There must be hundreds of people in here, how am I supposed to find one man in all that?"

Angela's expression was grave as she regarded him. "You can do far more than you give yourself credit for. Try, Parkman. Reach your mind out and find him. I know you can do it." She didn't add that she _needed_ him to do it, but it was there in her eyes.

Matt had doubts. His power mastered him far more than he controlled it, but the fear in her eyes gave him to option but to try and do as she asked. He nodded uncertainly before closing his eyes and reaching out into the world. Danko's mind was familiar to him already, and he concentrated on his memory of it. He sensed hundreds of minds, lost in thoughts large and small, and sifted through them, looking for Danko's ball bearing mind. Unbearable minutes ticked by as he cast his untrained and unwanted power about, finally finding the mind he was looking for.

_There you are!_ Danko's thoughts were hard and pitiless, and in this moment filled with malice. The man was absolutely furious, furious beyond rational thought, and he was near. Matt dipped into Danko's consciousness enough to get a sense of where the man was and what he was up to.

"Oh my God," Matt breathed.

"What? What is it!" Angela asked, the way that Matt's face paled had tightened the vice of fear that had squeezed her heart since she'd woken from her dream.

"He's not after the President." Matt couldn't bear to tell her Danko's real target, he just had to get there before Danko could act. "Come on, we have to stop him."

"Stop him from here! Make him change his mind!"

"I can't," Matt said as he started moving towards the elevators, Angela trailing in his wake. He made the secret service agents see someone they recognized, convinced them that he and Angela had every right to go through security. "I don't know how."

She balked, forcing him to turn to her. "Your father could do it," she said, knowing it would needle him. Perhaps she thought it would provoke him to action, but she was wrong. If he could stop Danko, he would.

"Yeah, well, I'm not my father, and I'll never be like him. Now come on!" Matt reached to her and grabbed her hand, pulling her into the elevator which had just opened. Once in there, he looked at the panel, and pressed number 32. A thought occurred to him as the doors closed, and he closed his eyes once more and reached desperately out for the minds he knew best.

* * *

Peter and Noah were able to enter the Stanton through the kitchen, quietly worming through the outside edges of the security barrier. Noah had to disable a few Secret Service agents to get the job done, but they would not remember anything when they came to. Now they stood hidden in the ball room where the President was giving an address, but they were too distracted by their watch for Danko to pay attention to his gifted oratory. There was no way for Danko to get at the President here, but with no other clues all they could do was stay as close to him as possible and hope they'd see Danko before he saw them.

_ Peter!_ Matt suddenly screamed into Peter's mind, and Peter stopped dead as the sending hit him like a fist. _Get to the Presidential Suite. Do it now! _Then Matt's presence was gone as abruptly as it had come and Peter shook himself as his eyes cleared. He spent half a moment cursing himself for not taking Matt's ability. Without it he could not reach his mind out and reconnect with Parkman to find out what was going on. All he could do was obey the frantic nature of the sending.

"We have to get out of here. Matt says -"

"We need to get to the Presidential Suite. I heard him too." Noah was impressed, he didn't think Matt had the necessary control over his ability to send a telepathic message at such range. It seemed Matt's abilities were growing every day. He made this observation as he was on the move, his long legs moving him quickly towards the staircase. The elevator for this floor had been closed, and he and Peter would need to pound up several flights of stairs to get them to the Presidential Suite. Noah pictured his lovely daughter, and started taking the stairs two at a time.

Claire was up there.

* * *

Meanwhile Claire glared balefully at Danko, hatred snapping from her eyes. The gun he held was leveled at her head, and his eyes were blazing. Claire couldn't understand how they could be so cold and so completely insane at the same moment. She stepped forward until the gun was pressed into her forehead. Nathan's eyes widened and he froze in place as he watched his daughter take her life in her hands.

"Take it easy, Danko" Nathan said in what he hoped were soothing tones. "What are you going to do, shoot her again? You know it won't work, and there's no one here to see her heal. You've lost, Danko."

Danko smiled his cold half-smile, his eyes so filled with madness that Claire felt a shiver run through her. "I know that too." Danko backed up from her, though he kept the gun pointed at her head. "You've ruined everything, Claire Bennet. You've destroyed my reputation and Building 26, and there's no way for me to convince anyone that you freaks exist."

"So give it up! You can't kill me," she spat.

"I don't want to kill you," Danko returned calmly. "I want to hurt you."

Danko shifted his aim from Claire to Nathan, and pulled the trigger. Everything suddenly slowed, and time pulled like taffy. Nathan staggered as the bullet hit him, a sharp gasp escaping him. The gun roared again, then again, and bright splatters of blood flew as the impact pushed him backwards. Nathan's eyes locked with his daughter, her pretty green eyes filled with shock and fear, and he tried to smile.

_I love you, Claire_, he thought as he fell backwards. Then nothing.

* * *

Sylar had leaned weakly against the door he'd closed between himself and Claire for a moment before his hunter's mind could prod him into action. It had been a very long, very bad day, and there was one individual he could blame for all of it. Sylar hoped Danko had prepared himself for death today, because that was exactly what he was going to get.

Sylar was far too restless to use the elevator, and instead made for the stair case. He was several flights down when he heard feet pounding up the stairs. Sylar quickly shifted to the first shape he could think of, which turned out to be Liam Samuels. However, when Noah Bennet flew around the banister and into view he dropped the form. Peter was only a step or two behind and both almost crashed into Sylar before they could slow their pace.

"Sylar!" Noah panted. "Where's Claire?"

The note of desperation in Noah's usually unflappable tone widened Sylar's eyes. "I left her with Nathan in the Pres-"

But Noah was already gone, a foul curse spat over his shoulder as he resumed his course up the stairs. Peter started up after him, both taking the stairs two at a time, and Sylar decided that now was no time for questions and followed. They reached the door marked "32" at the same time they heard the gunshots and broke into a full run as they hit the hallway.

* * *

"Dad!" Claire screamed as Nathan Petrelli's already dead body hit the floor with a boneless thud.

Claire's mind went blank as she watched her father die, and all she could hear was the gunshots, over and over again. She looked to Danko and saw the maliciously satisfied smile on his lips. Then the rage came and took everything away with it. He'd succeeded, he'd hurt her, but it was the last thing that he would ever do.

The three men pounding down the hallway heard her banshee shriek and redoubled their pace. Sylar waved at the door barring their way and it flew away from its hinges at the same moment Claire began to charge toward Danko.

Danko only had time to widen his eyes in surprise as Claire hit him, pushing him violently backwards. She was small, but so was he, and he was not charged with grief and fury. Arms windmilling, he staggered backwards, further back. Claire redoubled her efforts, slamming the full weight of her body against him and he hit the window, which shattered under the pressure. At that moment Claire hurled herself forward and wrapped her arms around Danko's chest, hitting him so hard that they both soared out through the broken window.

They fell, Danko and Claire, fell all the 32 stories that separated them from the ground, and Danko's eyes never left her as it happened. The shock at her attack cleared from his eyes as they fell and was replaced by a vicious gloating, but no fear. Danko knew he was about to die, but he also knew that he had succeeded. He had hurt her, and now the whole world would see her standing over his dead body at the bottom of a fall that should have killed them both.

_I win_, he thought.

But the ground did not kill Danko, the pool did. From the height they'd fallen from, it didn't make much difference. The surface of the water received them no more gently than would concrete. Danko died instantly as the collision shattered his bones and crushed his internal organs. Claire, though atop him, did not fair any better. Both of her arms and legs broke in multiple places, her organs ruptured, her ribs punched through her heart, lungs and skin. She died for just a moment before her body regenerated the damage almost as quickly as it had been caused.

Both of the bodies sank into the water, clouds of blood billowing up from them. The courtyard around the pool was deserted, having been closed down as part of the security protocols protecting the President. No one but Peter, Noah and Sylar standing in the shattered window far above saw it happen. Danko had not won after all.

Slowly, slowly Claire pulled herself from the pool, pausing to push bones back into place as needed until she stood at the lip, staring down at Danko's broken body, still sunk to the bottom. _I killed him_, she thought distantly, popping a few vertebrae back into place. She should feel bad, she should feel guilt at the murder of another human being, but all she could feel was grimly satisfied.

"Sylar said you'd die today," Claire commented to Danko's body, drifting slowly around the bottom of the red-tinged pool. Her voice was calm and cold until she remembered the choking gasp Nathan had uttered as he hit the ground, the light that had left his eyes even as he gave her his last smile. Then she broke down, fell to her knees in front of the pool and began to cry, feeling like her heart was ripping out in great chunks.

Above, Sylar, Noah and Peter looked down disbelievingly, watching as Claire began to pull herself out of the pool, but they whirled around when they heard the sound of more footsteps pounding down the hallway. Matt appeared in the doorway first, and when he saw the body on the floor he tried to pull back in order to grab Angela before she could come around the door.

"You shouldn't see this," he pleaded, but she pushed him away as if he were lighter than air.

Peter finally had time to look at the room they'd just burst into, and saw his brother. As his mother came around the corner, he fell to his knees. His mouth was moving, but he could not force sound past the closure of his throat. Angela's eyes widened and everything in her life fell apart as she ran towards her eldest son.

"No!" Angela screamed, her famous composure completely destroyed. She fell against her son, touching his cooling cheeks with shaking hands. "No!"

Peter struggled to rise to his feet, his mouth still opening and closing. Sylar took his hand and pulled him up. When he met Peter's eyes he shivered. He had never seen so much pain in someone's face, it was almost as if Peter had been taken away and only this shell remained.

"Peter, I'm so sorry," Sylar whispered, then pulled his cousin to his chest. Peter did not respond, he leaned bonelessly against Sylar, his face blank with shock.

Sylar looked down at Nathan's corpse, at his staring eyes and bloodied shirt. Angela was draped over her son's chest, moaning indescribable heartbreak into her son's ear. Noah and Matt stood helplessly by, watching the bereaved mother with compassion in their eyes.

_This is broken,_ Sylar thought, _how do I fix it?_ His first ability, the only one that was ever really his, told him how, and he closed his eyes against it. Denial would not work, but there was something that would. First, though, he had to get rid of Peter.

"Peter," Sylar said gently, then at the lack of response he shook Peter and repeated himself more forcefully. "Peter!"

Peter's eyes slowly cleared, but before he could look back to the lifeless body of his brother, his hero, Sylar grabbed him by the jaw and stared steadily into his eyes. "You have to go help Claire. She needs you."

"But-" and Peter's eyes sought his brother again, but once again Sylar prevented it.

"You're the only one that can help her, and sooner or later someone is going to find her there. Then it's over for all of us." Sylar's voice was deceptively calm. Peter was on the breaking point and if he didn't get him out of here soon he would shatter. And he would try to stop Sylar from doing what he was about to do next.

Sylar gave his cousin another gentle shake, his hands on his cousin's shoulders. "Go get Claire, okay?"

Peter swallowed painfully, then again. "Okay," he finally managed, his voice torn to husky shreds. Sylar all but pushed him out into the hallway and he watched Peter's back until he was on the elevator and the doors closed behind him.

As soon as his cousin was out of sight, Sylar moved to face Parkman, his lambent eyes focused on the telephath's face.

"Make me Nathan," he commanded peremptorily.

"What?" Matt said in surprise, trying not to shy away from the taller man.

"Delete my memories and replace them with Nathan's. I can shift into his shape, and I'll be able to fill in the blanks with psychometrics. No one will ever know he's dead."

Angela looked up from Nathan's body, a terrible hope lighting her eyes. Noah's blue eyes gleamed with approval for the plan; lose Sylar and get Nathan back? He could get behind that.

Sylar moved into the sunbeam flaring through the broken window and looked up to the sky for a moment. The light caught his dark eyes and shone them golden, and his face was peaceful.

"The world would miss Nathan Petrelli much more than it will miss Gabriel Gray. Do it."

"I don't know," Matt said uncertainly, and even in the circumstances Sylar had to curl his lip disdainfully at the man. The problem with Matt Parkman was that he never knew, never acted decisively, never used what Sylar knew to be a devastatingly powerful ability to get what he wanted.

"Please, Matt," Angela begged, her hand curled around Matt's wrist. "He's my son. Please."

Sylar was not surprised by her complete willingness to exchange her nephew for her son, but it still hurt a little. It reinforced the knowledge that there was no one who would miss him, no one would even really know he was gone.

_Except one, and she's better off this way too._

Gabriel walked over to Matt, taking the telepath's hand and pressing it against his temple. "Do it, Parkman. Now."

Matt swallowed roughly and nodded, then tilted his head to the side as he gathered himself. Thinking of everything he knew of Nathan Petrelli, which he discovered to his surprise was far more than he should. His monumentally powerful ability was always, whether he knew it or not, observing the thoughts and feelings of the people around him, and that unconscious knowledge gave him the knowledge he needed.

"You are no longer Sylar," Matt murmured, and Sylar fell to his knees at the force of it. Matt followed him, spreading his hand over Sylar's face. "You are no longer Gabriel Gray. That life is over. Sylar's dead."

Sylar's life began passing in front of his eyes as the relentless assault on his identity began breaking him down. Once again he relived watching the money his father had sold him for change hands, once again remembered finishing his Sylar watch at almost the same moment his life as Gabriel Gray ended. He watched himself killing his first victim, the crippling shame that had overcome him at the sight of the bloody body on the floor quickly lost to his insatiable desire to learn how the ability to move objects with thoughts worked. Gabriel's mother, her hand reaching for the scissors buried in her chest. All of it: pain, shame, fear. A life no one wanted or would miss.

"You're now Nathan Petrelli."

New images now, images not from his memory but from Nathan's. Saving Peter – saving his brother – from that idiotic leap from a highrise building in New York City.

"Nathan Petrelli. Son. Brother. Father. Senator." A better life, a far more useful life than Gabriel Gray's or Sylar's had ever been. It was with relief that Gabriel gave it all up, let his own mind dissolve. He allowed himself give way, and soon forgot who he was, accepting himself as Nathan Petrelli without qualm.

The part of him named Sylar did not plan to give up so easily. That part had railed, screamed and fought against the decision to sacrifice himself to preserve Nathan Petrelli, but had been overruled by what was left of the gentle soul Gabriel Gray had once been. Now, with the walls of his mind coming down and his existence in danger, Sylar did what cockroaches have always done: he found a way to survive. Gabriel felt that malevolent force abandon him, clawing its way through Parkman's meager defenses and taking refuge there. Gabriel tried to warn Matt, but his mind was being broken down, melting into Nathan's, and then he was gone.

Gabriel's body spasmed violently, and Matt stepped away quickly. Seizures rattled his body, and pushed him face down into the carpet. Just when Angela began to fear he would be broken by the violence of the reaction, the fit ended. With a long sigh, he rolled over onto his back.

Where Gabriel Gray had lain, now there was Nathan Petrelli. After a moment his eyes fluttered open, and as they did he looked around himself in confusion. Seeing his mother he smiled, a child's smile of relief.

"Mom?" Nathan/Sylar questioned softly, his voice gruff as if he was out of practice with using it. Angela fell back against Noah's chest, relief and horror warring for prime place in her eyes.

While the new Nathan slowly pulled himself together, Matt, Angela and Noah met one another's eyes. The realization of the enormity of the thing they had done began to crystallize, but Noah shook it off before it could paralyze him.

Angela helped pull Nathan/Sylar to his feet while Matt helped Noah pull the cooling body of Nathan Petrelli over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. The new Nathan did not seem to be able to see his own body slung over Noah's shoulder, and Matt's nod at Noah's questioning glance affirmed that Matt was shielding the knowledge from him.

"Come on, we have to get out of here," Noah snapped hoarsely, and the small group started out of the room.

Claire and Peter, their eyes hollowed out with shock and grief, arrived at the car just as Noah and Matt were depositing Nathan's body into the trunk. Peter held his niece's shoulder and they seemed to be holding each other up, as if they could not manage such a feat on their own. A low moan escaped Peter as he saw what the two men were doing and he moved rapidly toward them, batting them out of the way until he reached his brother.

Peter and Claire stood over Nathan's body, still and pale in the trunk of Nathan's car. Both were far beyond crying, lost in devastation so overwhelming that it almost kept them from drawing breath. After an eternity that lasted only moments, Peter blinked and looked around for his mother. She sat in the back of the car beside Sylar/Nathan, but Matt screened her for the moment. He and Noah had agreed that a basement parkade was not the right place for Peter and Claire to discover what they had done.

"It's okay," Matt said soothingly, and pushed thoughts of Angela out of their minds. "You'll see her soon, just as soon as we get out of here." His words were backed with telepathic commands. "You should take a taxi back to Noah's, we'll meet you there."

Nodding vaguely, Peter and Claire turned away from them and headed for the street exit. For a moment, Matt was tempted to clear the events of the day from their minds, to make them forget Nathan. But he had had enough of playing God for one day. Claire and Peter deserved better, anyhow.

By the time Claire and Peter reached Noah's apartment, the daze Matt's commands had caused was gone. Both were furious at him, they knew he'd used his ability to push them away. They sat in the back of the cab and held hands, trying not to think about Nathan.

They burst into the apartment, the door slamming behind them, and Peter immediately stalked up to Matt, pushing a finger into his chest.

"What the hell did you do Ma-"

Peter stopped dead, his question ending in a choked gasp. When Claire looked to see what had forestalled him, she saw her grandmother on the deck. She was talking quietly to a tall, dark haired man. When he turned, Claire saw that it was Nathan.

For a moment she thought the whole scene in the suite had been a terrible dream. Her father was not dead, of course he wasn't, that was nonsense. She hadn't murdered Danko, how could she, she was a good girl. But it wasn't true, and she could not forget the sight of Nathan's expression as the bullets tore into him nor the look in Danko's eyes as she fell with him to his death.

Everyone was here, everyone but Sylar. A horrible feeling settled in her stomach, as she looked out the window at the walking, talking mockery of a dead man. She met Peter's eyes and saw the same sick suspicion taking hold.

"What have you done?" Her voice was quiet, but menacing, a feat she had apparently learned from Sylar.

"We had to do it, Claire, it was the only way to save Nathan!" Noah exclaimed, and Claire shot him a lethal glare. Given that she had no doubt that this craziness had been her father's plan, his opinion was worth precisely nothing to her.

Nathan looked over to her and flashed his trademark grin at her. There was no trace of Sylar in his eyes, none of that penetrating intensity. None of the vulnerable sweetness of Gabriel Gray. Only the warm affectionate glow of a loving father. It repulsed Claire, and she looked away before he could see it in her eyes.

She turned her back on Nathan/Sylar and fixed her marble gaze on Parkman. Completely ignoring her diminutive size in comparison to his bulk, she reached up to grab his collar, giving it a sharp tug.

"Put him _back_," she growled, and Matt actually felt the hackles on the back of his neck stand up. The little teen aged cheerleader he remembered had irrevocably disappeared, and he had to wonder what the woman who'd replaced her would be like. The word "scary" came to mind.

"Think about what you're saying, Claire," Noah tried again, stepping close to his daughter. His faded blue eyes begged for understanding. "If Matt brings Sylar back, Nathan will be gone forever!"

Claire let go of Matt and turned to her father. Her lips twisted and her chin wrinkled as she fought tears, but only the huskiness of her voice vocalized her grief.

"Nathan is dead, and I killed the man who murdered him. You have to accept that. Killing Sylar, taking away all he is or ever could be, is not going to bring Na – my _father_ back. It's just piling another murder on top of it."

"He's a monster, Claire, and he can't change!" Noah argued. "Think about everything he's done-"

"I am!" Claire shouted furiously. Nathan/Sylar turned to look again at the sound of her raised voice, but Angela distracted him once again before shooting a sharp warning glance over her shoulder.

"I am," Claire repeated more moderately, after taking a deep calming breath. She turned to look at Matt, she was through with talking to Noah. "You haven't been here, Matt. You haven't seen how much he's changed. He's not a monster, he's a person, and people can change. He is changing. I _know_ he can be a good person."

"He's a murderer, remember?" Matt replied. His first experience with Sylar had been two grotesquely murdered parents and a terrified little girl hiding under the stairs. Given their history, his opinion of the man had only worsened since then.

"So have I!" Claire remembered standing over Danko's body, feeling her own shattered limbs and organs heal into place. She'd felt nothing but satisfaction about killing the man who'd murdered her father, and it had changed everything. "Am I a monster?" Claire looked at her father and gestured to her grandmother outside. "These two have murdered God knows how many people to keep the secret of our existence. Are they monsters?"

None of her elders could answer her question, and Claire realized that she would never look to them for answers again. She was an adult now, she would have to find the answers – if there were any – on her own.

"Now put him back."

"I can't!" Matt exclaimed, and waved off Claire's protest before she could give it breath. "No, I don't mean I don't want to – which I don't – but because I don't know how. I'm not even sure how I did it in the first place. All I know is that I convinced Sylar that he wasn't real, that he was and always had been Nathan Petrelli. If I try to reverse that, maybe I erase both of them and leave just an empty shell!"

"That's unacceptable," Claire returned flatly, and Noah was startled by it. It sounded just like something he would say, right down to the tone. Matt could only stare helplessly back at her, and her eyes filled with frustrated tears.

"Are you telling me that I have to pretend that he's Nathan, when I know that it's Sylar? I have to smile, and hug him, and _love_ him just like he was Nathan, even though I know Nathan is dead and this is all some _game_ you all are playing to protect our precious secret?"

"Claire, what is this? Why are you so desperate to get Sylar back?" Noah swallowed harshly and asked the question that had been on his mind for days, though he feared the answer. "Do you love him?"

Claire's eyes widened as if he'd slapped her, and a quick denial almost made it to her lips before she realized that it would be a lie. "I don't know," she admitted quietly as she watched Angela and Nathan speak animatedly to one another. "Maybe."

"Oh, Claire," Noah whispered brokenly, but Claire interrupted him before he could say anymore.

"It doesn't matter anymore, does it?" Claire asked bitterly. Each of them received a look as green and cold and deadly as an iceberg before she turned away and began walking toward Nathan and and her grandmother. Noah reached out to touch her shoulder, but she shook him off and walked away without looking back. Peter, silent through the exchange, hastened after her as both walked into the sun. Peter did not feel warmed by it. He didn't think he would ever feel warm again.

* * *

The shapeshifter's body, still in Sylar's form, had been kept in the Building 26 morgue, and in the confusion Noah and Matt were able to gain access to it. Nathan's death had to be kept a secret even from their friends. Only the people who'd been in the Stanton that day knew what had happened. They gathered at Coyote Sands, calling Hiro, Ando and Mohinder to witness the cremation of "Sylar."

Peter and Claire stood apart from the rest, their eyes filled with an equal mix of grief and anger. Claire's arms were crossed over her chest, and she refused to look at or speak to Noah, as she had since their last conversation. She wasn't ready to talk to him, and she wasn't sure if she ever would be. She watched as the shapeshifter's body was consumed by the fire, and all the tears the child known as Claire Bennet would have shed were dried by its heat.

_We are all connected, joined together by an invisible thread._

_Infinite in its potential, and fragile in its design._

_Yet while connected, we are also merely individuals,_

_Empty vessels to be filled with infinite possibilities._

_An assortment of thoughts, beliefs_

_A collection of disjointed memories and experiences._

_Can I be me, without these?_

_Can you be you?_

_And if this invisible thread that holds us together were to sever, to cease,_

_What then?_

_What would become of billions of lonely, disconnected souls?_

_Therein lies the great quest of our lives:_

_To find, to connect, to hold on._

_For when our hearts are pure,_

_And out thoughts in line, we are all truly one._

_Capable of repairing our fragile world, and creating a universe of infinite possibilities._

**End of Volume Four**

**Volume Five**

"**Redemption"**

_Six Weeks Later_

Kent Harper, former Building 26 agent, opened the door to his apartment and stepped in wearily. He'd been looking for work since Building 26 had closed shop, but he hadn't had much success. When he walked into the kitchen, he was startled to discover that the kitchen tap was running, and to judge from the amount of water on the floor, it had been for some time. Kent hadn't left the kitchen sink running, which meant someone else had. He stepped slowly through the large puddle on his kitchen floor, his eyes warily inspecting his apartment. He didn't see the puddle from the kitchen work its way towards the living room, glimmering and holding its shape like mercury.

Before his astonished eyes, the puddle darted upwards into the air, and began to form the shape of a woman. Slowly the water turned opaque, and moments later a beautiful naked blonde woman stood where the puddle had been.

"You're number four," Tracy Strauss said with a smile.

Kent Harper didn't even have time to scream.

**Fourth Mysterious Drowning Baffles Authorities**_**, **_the headline read. Nathan read the article with chills running up and down his spine, wondering where Tracy Strauss was. If she was hunting down the men who'd caught her and confined her in Building 26, he wondered when she'd pay him a visit, and what he'd do when she did. The feeling of apprehension that knowing a murderer with a far more aggressive power than his was gunning for him did not appear, and he wondered why. He only felt that he had nothing to fear from Tracy Strauss.

Nathan turned in his expensive leather desk chair and narrowed his eyes as he steepled his fingers, his large ring glinting on his finger. He did not see his mother enter his office, dressed in a very smart red wool coat, her pearls glowing at her neck.

"I haven't seen you in weeks," she said without greeting, a thin smile on her lips. "I was beginning to worry."

Nathan did not respond, just continued to stare thoughtfully at the middle distance.

"Nathan?" Angela questioned querulously, her eyebrows furrowed together.

Nathan looked up and observed his mother for the first time with an almost startled expression on his face.

"Sorry Ma. Just haven't felt like myself lately," Nathan said as he rose from his chair and walked toward his mother.

"Don't be ridiculous," she replied, wrapping her arms around his neck for a hug. "This is a great time for you, Nathan. The world's your oyster. You've put all that nonsense behind us, the family's back together. This is your time. Now come on, we're gonna be late for lunch."

Nathan just stared at her emotionlessly, as if her words did not connect, before he smiled feebly, obviously more in response to the sound of her voice than the meaning of her words.

"Nathan?" Angela said with a broad and somehow brittle smile. "Have you heard a word I've said?"

Nathan looked over her shoulder and past her, at the cabinet on the wall. The glass shelves were packed with various curios that he'd picked up over an adventurous and wealthy life. The object of his attention was an old fashioned clock, with a corkscrew pendulum spinning beneath it. The clock was in a glass bell and behind the glass door of the cabinet, but Nathan cocked his head as if he could hear it ticking.

Nathan pursed his lips and opened the cabinet, reaching in to remove the bell. "It's just this clock," he murmured. "It's running a minute and a half fast."

Angela felt her heart turn cold and drop into her belly, and despite her best intentions her expression tightened, fear lighting her eyes. Nathan adjusted the hands of the clock by a minute fraction and replaced the bell.

His customary good cheer regained, Nathan turned from the clock and snagged his jacket from a nearby chair. "So! Lunch. Italian?" Nathan walked out into the hallway, his voice echoing behind him. "Or Chinese?"

Angela didn't hear him, she just stared at the clock with an unbearable grief in her eyes.

_Fin_

A/N: And that, as they say, is that. Some of you might howl at this ending, but I always said I was respinning the season, and seasons rarely end with every bow tied up, Heroes in particular. I may rewrite the fourth season based on this, I already have some ideas, but I want to concentrate on my novel for a little while. I want to thank each and every one of you for your support, it has meant more to me than I can possibly express.


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